Sorcerer's Apprentice
by patemalah21
Summary: Molly thought her day was as bad as it could get and then she had the misfortune to meet a sorcerer named Sherlock of Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

Molly thought her day was as bad as it could get and then she had the misfortune to meet a sorcerer named Sherlock of Holmes.

A/N - This story is dedicated to one of my favorite authors, the lovely lostmypen120, author of the awesome story "Fairy Tale", who has a birthday coming up on November 20th. I know you hinted for a one shot dear, but is a multi-chapter okay? Happy early birthday! :)

Thanks as always to my hubby, Dr. Napalm, who is my wonderful beta. He has a birthday coming up on November 25th!

The Sorcerer's Apprentice

Chapter One - Beginnings

Once upon a time, in a land far away -

"Ouch! Get off me, you oaf!" The muffled shout could be heard from beneath a pair of muscular shoulders and the broad body which was holding the owner of the angry voice pinned to the ground beneath him.

"I love you! I must have you for my own!" The man growled in a low lustful voice. "Kiss me, tell me that you consent to be mine forever!" he insisted intensely.

"You don't love me, you just think you do. You love Elar. Now get off me before I have to hurt you," his victim warned. This time the voice was clearer as the man shifted to better hold his prize. Except for a pair of flailing arms, nothing could be seen of the owner of the still angry voice under the body of the rather large man. "I said, get off me Bodrin. Get off me now!" Bodrin's response was an attempt to subdue her with a kiss, a rather wet and messy one.

"Oh for heaven's sakes. Yuck!" Molly Hooper swore as Bodrin finally came up for air. "You taste like garlic! That's just disgusting!" One of her arms stilled as the hand on the end of it discovered a good sized stone on the ground. Quickly her hand formed a fist about the rock and swung up and connected with a sharp thunk into the side of the oaf's head just above his ear. Bodrin roared in pain and rolled to the side. Molly quickly scrambled to her feet and faced her unwanted suitor. Reaching into the pouch still attached to her skirts, she pulled out her sling and several smooth pebbles. Holding it up so Bodrin could see, she waved the sling threateningly. "Go home Bodrin. Go back to your wife, she's the one who loves you...God help her."

Bodrin just stood dazed, staring at Molly in confusion.

"But I love you," he whined. "I adore you, I want to be with you forever."

"No, you don't," Molly wearily assured him. "You really don't. Go home, once you get far enough away from me, you'll come to your senses and realize this has all been a mistake. Go home Bodrin."

Bodrin turned and took a few steps away toward the village. Then he suddenly turned and rushed back toward Molly with a frustrated groan. Molly was prepared this time and the small stone launched from her sling flew through the air in a perfect arc to land in the exact spot guaranteed to cool Bodrin's ardor for some time to come. With a terrifyingly shrill shriek, the would be lover doubled over. He turned and began to hobble away as fast as he could. Molly assisted him on his journey with a few well placed pebbles to his backside as he disappeared behind a thicket of brambles.

She stalked over to her discarded basket and kicked the crushed herbs in disgust. A whole day of gathering wasted. No use trying to pick anything else today, the sun was hanging low in the western sky and it would soon be dusk. Time to head back to the lonely hovel she temporarily called home. It had not been Molly's day, or week, or month for that matter and she didn't see any changes for the foreseeable future. Life sucked.

It was all Anderson's fault. Her apprentice had been cleaning the upper shelves of their herb and potion shop when he had clumsily knocked over a rather large pot of love potion which had poured all over Molly Hooper covering her from head to toe. Thus her career of herbalist was interrupted and her life as the most wanted woman in the history of the world began. Literally.

After tying an overly amorously Anderson up (not a difficult feat), Molly had bathed as best she could and changed clothing. It was all for nothing. As soon as she stuck her head out the door every man in the village went on point like a pack of hounds on a hunt. Molly had no choice but to leave. The potion was an especially strong one, a single drop lasted an hour. A whole pot full might last months or even years. Molly sighed, she had been running for over a month now and she was out of hiding places. Tomorrow she would head into the deep forest. A wilderness where no one who valued his life dared to venture. There were wolves and bears in the forest and some said things even worse.


	2. Chapter 2 - Into the Deep

Chapter Two - Into the Deep

Molly picked up her basket and headed through the trees and around the thickets to the abandoned wood cutter's hut she had been calling home for the past several days. No one had lived here since old Callum Woodsman had stumbled into the village one early spring ten years before. More dead than alive, his dying tale of ghosts and attacking wolves put fear into the bravest villager. That's what came of living so close to the deep forest everyone said, and no one would go near the place from that time on. She had hoped to be able to stay here and even make it her permanent home until the potion wore off to the point of being able to return to the village again. Molly had even started making rudimentary repairs in the hope of making the hut more weather resistant. Well, that was all for naught now. Either Bodrin would return or someone would take his story seriously and come to investigate. She would need to leave first light tomorrow morning if she were to escape. Molly sighed in frustration. She had no choice, it would have to be the deep forest. Any other direction would put her into the territories of other villages. She didn't relish the thought of what would happen to her if she were captured by strangers.

**- Ф - **

Molly awoke early the next morning. First she wrapped what was left of the two rabbits she had roasted over the fire in the hearth the night before in a small cloth and placed them at the bottom of her basket. Next, herbs she had managed to dry were carefully rolled into small pieces of rag, placed into a leather pouch and put on top of the rabbits. Next, her small knife for cutting herbs was added. Finally, she folded her few pieces of spare clothing neatly and placed them in the center of her one ratty blanket. Checking the pouch that contained her sling and several stones and the small book which had belonged to her father which she was never without, then attached it to her skirts. She was ready to leave. When she had fled the village, with six love-lorn men chasing her, she had only the contents of her basket, her walking staff, and the clothes on her back. Since that time she had added a blanket, three pair of knickers and an extra dress complements of Mistress Duncan's washline. It wasn't much, but it would do. Picking up the walking staff, she opened the door and stepped out into the misty morning where she abruptly stopped and stared into the trees.

She wasn't alone. There, leaning casually against a tree trunk, was the tallest man she had ever seen. Not only was he tall, he was difficult to see clearly. His dark brown cloak blended well in the surrounding forest. Only his pale face was easily discernable beneath a shock of curly black hair topped with a pointy hat that matched the cloak.

"Who ever you are, go away!" Molly cried in frustration. "Don't come any nearer, I don't feel like dealing with the likes of you this morning so just go away and leave me in peace."

"Whom." A deep voice corrected.

"Wh-what?" Molly stuttered in a confused tone.

"It's 'whom ever you are, go away,'" corrected the deep baritone voice of the man as he pushed away from the tree and took a step closer.

"St-stop right there! Don't come any closer." Molly warned as she dropped her blanket bundle, balanced her feet and maneuvered her walking stick across her body. Holding it in both hands, she revealed its true purpose of actually being a quarterstaff.

" Interesting. Do you know how to use that thing?" the stranger asked in a rather indifferent tone.

"Yes I do." Molly said bravely as she watched him come a few steps toward her.

He was now close enough for Molly to engage with her staff. He didn't threaten her or move closer. He simply stood and gazed at her with cool blue eyes as if he were making up his mind about something. He took a deep breath and began to speak rapidly.

"You are Molly Hooper." It wasn't a question, he was simply stating a fact. "I can see from your basket you are an herbalist and potion maker. Your shoes indicate you have been near a bog recently, gathering mallow I suspect. The only bog in the area is some distance on the other side of the village, therefore you have been traveling for a time. This hut you have been staying in has been repaired, but not extensively, so either you don't plan to stay here long or you have just recently arrived. You have been living rough for several weeks yet your body is healthy and well conditioned. Therefore you must be adept in foraging, and the cooking odor coming from your hut last night indicates you must be at least a fair game hunter. I suspect you have a sling in the pouch at your waist. Your clothing is loose and ill fitting. Judging from outdated and frankly matronly style, I'd say you nicked them somewhere. Am I right?"

Molly's mouth fell open. "It wasn't mallow, it was slipperwart." Molly said as she stared at the stranger in amazement. He shook his head and mumbled something about always missing something.

"That's incredible!" she breathed.

The man smirked and preened a little but said nothing.

"How did you know my name?"

"It was a calculated risk," he admitted. "but a logical one. There aren't that many herbalists about and your name was mentioned several times as I passed through villages in the area. You are quite famous you know, you are known far and wide as the herbalist who saved everyone who fell to the dreaded sleeping sickness three years ago. And if that is not enough, you are especially famous since your recent - ah - accident." He smirked openly this time.

Molly jumped. She had been so enthralled with the stranger's story she had temporarily forgotten about her problem. The man just stood there looking at her. By this time he should at least be declaring his undying love. Was the potion finally worn off? She sniffed her hand. No, it was still there. The stench of rosemary and honey was very distinct. Why wasn't he reacting?

The stranger just stood watching her, the smirk still obvious on his face. It was if he was watching her mind process her thoughts.

"The potion," Molly asked gently, "why aren't you affected? Are you an eunuch?"

The tall man gave her a highly offended snort. "Indeed not!"

"Sorry." Molly said. "Are you a woman in disguise?"

If she thought he was offended with her first question her last one left no doubt as to his ire.

"No!" He growled loudly in his deep voice. His face changed rapidly and the smirk reappeared as he asked in a rather dangerous tone, "Would you like me to prove it?

"No, that won't be necessary." Molly hurriedly assured him. The man was so thin see could easily see his adam's apple, and no woman could match that deep voice. "I'm sorry, that was a quite stupid question. Please forgive me. It's just, well, all men are affected by this particular potion. How is it that you are not?"

Watching his expression change yet again, Molly hastened to add, "I don't mean to offend you in any way, I just don't understand. Why aren't you affected?"

"I," the stranger informed her haughtily, "am not just any man! I do not succumb to ridiculous fantasies, I am above such pitiful expressions of emotional slavery! I have divorced myself from degrading acts of sentiment and have dedicated myself totally to my work!"

"Besides, I am immune to all love potions." The last remark was added as an afterthought.

"Oh." Molly said in a small voice. She was overwhelmed. The man's rapid speech echoed in her head as her brain struggled to keep up.

"Who are you?" she finally asked. "What do you want?"

"I am Sherlock of Holmes," the man rather importantly announced. He seemed rather disappointed when she gave no reaction.

"Was he supposed to be famous or someone important?" Molly wondered.

"As to your second question, I came here to fetch you. You are needed in the Kingdom of Holmes. An herbalist is needed, and as you are the best, that means you are required."

"Don't you have herbalists in Holmes?" Molly asked in confusion. Why had he come all this way just to get her?

"They all died of the sleeping sickness." Sherlock said grimly.

Now Molly understood. Only the best herbalists could make the draught that would cure the dreaded disease.

"There's a problem," Molly said quietly. "I won't be able to do my work if the love potion is still in effect."

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. "It will probably be worn off by the time we get to Holmes." He paused for a moment and then rather grimly continued, "if it hasn't, I know a way to neutralize it."

"Okay..." Molly said hesitantly, looking the man in the eyes. What was going on? Whatever his method to fix the potion, he didn't appear eager to try it.

"Where is Holmes?" she asked, changing the subject. If she was going to go there, she would like to at least have a general idea of where she was headed.

Sherlock looked at her solemnly. "It is a long journey," he said at last. "The Kingdom of Holmes is on the far side of the deep forest. He pointed to the foreboding horizon in the distance.

Molly swallowed. Perhaps it was for the best that they were going together. At least she wouldn't be alone. She nodded to him, picked up her bundle once more and said, "Lead on Sir Luck"

"It's Sher - lock," his voice floated back as they headed across the clearing.

What kind of name is that? Molly wondered as she followed her new companion into the deep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three - Struggles

Molly found it most difficult to keep up with the stranger's pace. His long legs and swift stride was impossible to match without running. She refused to run. She decided she could track him if he got too far ahead and settled into her comfortable stride which she could maintain for hours on end. Sir Luck, or Shy Lock, or whatever he was called was soon out of sight. He left few signs of his passing. If Molly hadn't been so skillful, she would have soon lost him. Each time she forded a small stream she had to diligently search up and down the opposite bank to pick up his trail. It was almost if he were trying to elude her.

Several hours passed and soon the sun shone straight down on her shoulders. It was time for lunch, but Molly found no indication that her illusive companion had any intentions of stopping. Perhaps he didn't require sustenance? He was so thin she could almost believe he existed on air alone. Well, her body was not so ethereal. She decided would stop by the next stream and take a rest and eat. Squaring her shoulders she marched on for another hour. Coming out of the woods into a small clearing bordered by stream, she saw Sherlock sitting on a large rock patiently waiting.

"It took you long enough," his deep voice grumbled. "I was almost ready to come and get you."

"You did that on purpose," Molly said flatly, "why?"

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. "I needed to know if you could track. The Deep is a dangerous place, one never knows what will happen there. I wanted to be sure you can find me if we become separated."

Molly stood looking at him silently. When he didn't appear to be going to continue his commentary, she sighed.

"So how did I do?"

Sherlock eyed her disdainfully. "Obviously, since you are here you passed the test. You preformed adequately."

Molly knew she had performed more than just adequately; brilliantly was the word that came to her mind. There were only two men in the village who could match her skills and they were now too old to venture out much. She decided not to press the issue. Let the man think he had successfully dampened her opinion of her skills.

He was staring at her oddly; Molly wished she knew what her was thinking. He made her a little nervous.

"Oh-Okay." she stuttered. What was with the stuttering? She never stuttered! What was it about him that made her stutter? "I-I'm hungry. Could we eat lunch now?"

"Not yet," he said shortly and swiftly stood. Removing his cloak he picked up his staff and held it across his body, hands loosely sliding into position. "Prepare to defend yourself."

Molly stood. "What is this? Another test?" With a frown she began to untie the length of rope wound about her middle. Sherlock didn't say anything, just watched her with a curious look as she pulled the rope away from her body. One end was still tied to her belt in the back. Bending over, Molly pulled the rope up between her legs drawing her skirts up as she shorted the length. Finally she tied the loose end to her belt in front, turning her skirts into a makeshift set of pantaloons. Molly picked up her staff and nodded. "Ready."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. "Do you really think an attacker is going to wait while you transform your clothing?" She had spectacular legs he silently noted to himself before returning his gaze to her face.

"N-n-not really." Molly admitted. "But you said I could prepare myself. Besides, you want to know the best I can do don't you?"

Sherlock nodded silently and abruptly attacked. Molly just barely had time to bring her own staff up in the correct block. For a few minutes no sound could be heard in the clearing except for grunts and the clacking of quarterstaffs. Sherlock was very good Molly discovered. His extreme height was a disadvantage to her, forcing her to be constantly on the defensive. She couldn't find a spot to shift the fight to her advantage. Once as he swung his staff and knocked her off her feet, she heard his crow of triumph but she smoothly rolled to her feet and blocked his next move. Back and forth the two struggled. Fifteen minutes went by, then a half hour, Molly was beginning to tire. If she didn't find a way to end this on her terms he was going to win because of superior strength alone. Slowing, Molly began stagger slightly, leaving openings in her defense. Sherlock ruthlessly took advantage and landed several raps to her ribs and backside. To his credit he pulled his punches enough that nothing was broken, though she was going to be severely bruised, especially on her buttocks. Molly gritted her teeth and bided her time watching his moves closely. Finally she saw him begin to relax as she consistently moved sluggishly. There it was, the opening she had been waiting for. With a swift lightening strike her staff whirled through the air and swept the tall man's feet out from under him. Stepping closer, her staff blurred in her hands as it turned in the air and stopped abruptly just above Sherlock's throat.

"Yield or pay the consequences!" Molly shouted grimly as she stared into the eyes of a very surprised Sherlock.

With the staff merely inches away, he realized it would be a killing blow. How had she managed that? Too late, he realized her ploy, her slowness had been a ruse to distract him.

"Yield," he said softly. He rolled to his feet as Molly stood back and held the staff in home position. He noted approvingly that she did not trust him that the battle was over. "You actually did quite well," he admitted grudgingly.

"I did more than quite well," Molly smirked, "I bested you fair and square."

"You did," Sherlock admitted with a small grin. "But the next time it could be I who wins. We are evenly matched I would say." There was genuine admiration in his voice.

Molly grinned back. "Perhaps," she said in a saucy tone, "or maybe I'll land a few strokes to your backside to teach you a lesson."

Sherlock's eyes glowed with mischief in the sunlight. "Speaking of such, how is your backside?"

"Sore," Molly ruefully acknowledged, then grinned back. "Are you ready for lunch now?"

Sherlock nodded, and the two shared a companionable silence as Molly split the remains of yesterday's rabbit between them. At first Sherlock just picked at the food, but soon he set to with more enthusiasm.

"This is quite good," he mumbled around the food in his mouth. "Why does this taste so different?"

"It's my secret blend of twelve herbs and spices," Molly smiled. "And don't ask, I won't share the recipe!"

Sherlock grunted in disapproval, but continued to devour the rabbit, going so far as to suck rather noisily on the bones in an effort to find every last scrap.

Luncheon finished, the two sat side by side on a fallen tree trunk and rested. They still had a fair distance to go before entering the deep. Molly pushed her hair away from her eyes and snuck a sideways glance at her companion. He was a strange looking man. All arms and legs and bushy hair. He was very different from the short but sturdy village men she was used to. He was thin to the point of emaciation, however as their exercise had shown, he was deceptively strong. His large hands looked almost delicate, as if he were unused to heavy physical labor. His skin was so white he looked like death. His face was long, his high cheekbones were prominently displayed. His face constantly changed to the point of appearing to be that of another person as he turned or shifted expressions. She supposed some women would find him handsome, but his features were so exotic, Molly wasn't quite sure what she thought of him. She thought his eyes were beautiful however. Sometimes blue-grey, sometimes green, they shone with an inner light that totally mesmerized her.

"You're staring at me," Sherlock's low voice rumbled.

"S-s-sorry It's just I've never seen a man who looks the way you do," Molly apologized in embarrassment.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to respond when Molly suddenly stood up and raised her hand in the air.

"Someone's coming," she whispered. Sherlock cocked his head to the side and nodded. They both stood and picked up their quarterstaffs.

Into the clearing strode six burly soldiers. They looked rough and definitely not the type you would want to make friends with. The heavy one in the front smiled broadly displaying several missing teeth.

"Well, well, what do we see here?" He sized up Sherlock and dismissed him as a threat. Next he slowly eyed Molly. His nose began to twitch. "Oh," he sighed lustfully, "I think I am in love."

"Me too!" each of the five other soldiers behind him echoed.

"Come to me, my fair beauty. Give me a kiss!"

"Me too!" echoed his companions in chorus.

"Over my dead body!" Molly growled.

"That'll work," the leader said with a leer.

Molly glanced at Sherlock who gave her a nod. The two raised their staffs and launched into the midst of the rowdy buffoons. With roars of surprise the men pulled their swords and the battle was on.

Quarterstaffs whirling, Sherlock and Molly dispatched three of the objectionable men in no time. Sherlock was then assaulted by two men as Molly faced the leader.

"You don't want to hurt me," the leader crooned. "Let me show you what a real man feels like. Trust me sweetheart, you don't want to miss me." He circled Molly grinning evilly.

Molly had had enough. "Oh just shut up," she shouted angrily and with a precise whirl of her staff managed to break two ribs, crush a big toe and land a blow to the objectionable man's head. He crashed to the ground with a grunt and lay unmoving in the dirt.

Molly looked up and watched Sherlock dispatch the last soldier with a solid whack to the solar plexus. He looked over at Molly and gave her an audacious wink and a grin.

"That was fun." He smiled in delight, there could be no doubt he meant every word.

What kind of man was this Sherlock of Holmes? He seemed to thrive on danger. Molly watched as he rooted about his pack and produced a long length of rope which he used to bind the vanquished lovers.

"That will hold them for a time," he explained. He returned to his pack and pulled out a small leather pouch. Motioning to Molly he said, "You lead for a while. Head west." Molly nodded and picked up her belongings and started out. Sherlock followed behind, scattering a green powder from the pouch behind him.

"What are you doing?" Molly asked curiously as she walked backwards gazing back at Sherlock.

"Spreading track diffuser," he said. "When the soldiers get free they won't be able to follow us."

"O-okay." Molly muttered. She turned and headed toward the deep without another word.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Journey Continues

Chapter Four - The Journey Continues

After a mile of travel Sherlock replaced the small bag into his pack and resumed the lead. His gait slowed to a steady march which Molly gratefully found easy to keep up with. She stared at his cloak-covered back and wondered who this mysterious man was. Could she trust him? Why was she willing to follow a virtual stranger just because of a pair of intriguing eyes? She knew nothing about him really, and now she was going into The Deep with him. What was she thinking? He could be anyone. . . a charlatan, a wastrel. a ruffian blackguard, a scoundrel or a thief, perhaps a vagabond, definitely an adventurer, maybe even a murderer. "No," she told herself. He could easily be all the other things she had listed, but he wasn't a murderer. How she knew this was a puzzle, but she instinctively knew he was not a cold blooded killer. "You're a fool, Molly Hooper," she scolded herself. But what choice did she have? Word was getting around. Those soldiers were not so far from the highway without reason. They would not be the only ones searching for her. Molly mentally shrugged. She had already thrown her lot in with this man . . . best to stop worrying and get on about it. If he became too bothersome she could always strike out on her own. At least he was not trying to snog her every chance he got. For now she would bide her time and observe this odd fellow carefully.

As they continued steadily westward, Molly became increasingly aware of the hot sun beating down on her shoulders as they passed in and out of clearings. Even in the shade of the woods the heat was oppressive. She glance at the brown cloaked man ahead. He hadn't slowed a bit. How could he stand the heat wearing a heavy cloak? He didn't seem uncomfortable, in fact he wore the thing close about his body as if it were the coolest of weather. Molly frowned as she wiped sweat from her brow with a rag from her basket. He wasn't even breaking a sweat. How did he manage that? When she had questioned him about it earlier, he hadn't even turned around, just mumbled irritably something about it being an 'all weather coat' what ever that meant. The cloak itself was certainly unusual. Molly had never seen the likes of it before. For one thing it had tubes hanging from the sides in which Sherlock placed his arms. That was interesting. Molly quickly saw the advantage of the design. He would be able to keep his arms free and accessible in even the coldest of winters. The circular wooden disks down the front were also fascinating. Dyed to match the cloak, she had first missed their presence. Molly had watched in wonder earlier as he absently pushed the disks on one side through small holes in the opposite side of his cloak, effectively holding the garment tightly closed about his body. From his waist down the material widened gradually into a flair. More disks or butt-ons as he called them, were located at the bottom of the arm tubes and on the back of the cloak. These appeared to be decorative as they served no function Molly could perceive. Perhaps they were spare disks to be used in case he lost or broke the ones on the front? Molly frowned as she struggled to remember the curious word he had said the cloak was called. What was it? Oh, yes, a Bell-Staff coat. Hmm, perhaps those who fought with quarterstaffs wore such garments in the land of Holmes? It made sense, those tubes would certainly come in handy and the flair of the bottom would easily distract an opponent. But what a bell had to do with it Molly could not venture a guess.

- ɸ -

Some time in the late afternoon Sherlock stopped and turned to Molly. "We are here," he said.

Molly looked past his shoulder and saw a mere mile away the sharp edge of the looming forest. It was odd, they had been walking through thick grasslands for several hours. There had been no trees, only brambles and small shrubs for some time. Then suddenly as if an invisible line were drawn, the forest started. Ancient fully grown trees thickly towered beginning in a straight line that went left and right as far as the eye could see.

"Odd how we have seen only grass and bushes for so long and now the forest starts so abruptly." Molly commented.

"Only the grass and a few shrubs are strong enough to withstand the power of The Deep. Even those thin to almost nothing at the edge." Sherlock said quietly.

It was true, the grass was getting less dense the closer to the forest they got. Molly shivered, what was in there that even the vegetation avoided it?

"Could you build a fire while I go to the stream and fetch our supper?" Sherlock asked not unkindly.

Molly nodded and started collecting small dried sticks from under nearby shrubs. She doubted if Sherlock would find anything in the nearby brook. She had been watching in vain for a chance to get a couple of rabbits or a nice partridge or two for the last two hours. It seemed that the vegetation was not the only things avoiding this place. Molly eyed the forest warily. She was glad Sherlock had decided to stop out here in the open to rest. She definitely did not like the looks of The Deep.

A few minutes later Molly was pleasantly surprised when Sherlock reappeared grinning. He held two good sized trout dangling from his long fingers by their gills. It seemed they would eat tonight after all. He had already scraped the scales and gutted them she noted in appreciation.

"Do you think you could use some of those delicious herbs you used on the rabbits?" he asked hungrily.

"Oh I have something even better for them." Molly smiled and took the offered fish from his hands. She jumped a little as their hands brushed together in the process. It was if a charge of energy passed through her body as quick as lightening. Molly quickly turned to the fire to hide her blush. From the corner of her eye she watched Sherlock stare down at his hands for a few moments as if he too had felt the jolt and was puzzled by it. He soon recovered however and moved over to where his pack lay on the ground and began searching inside. Sounds of objects banging together could be heard as he jostled the contents about.

Molly placed the fish near the now roaring fire and went to collect some grape leaves she had seen earlier. Returning, she soaked the large leaves in water Sherlock had gathered in a small pot he had retrieved from his pack. They worked together well, Molly thought. Sherlock seemed to anticipate her every need. As she placed each fish on several soaked grape leaves and reached into her basket for her special seasoning.

Filleting the fish with her small knife, she then sprinkled the mixture on the insides of the fish and placed them back together. She wrapped them tightly in the water-soaked leaves. Finally. she carefully buried them in the ashes at the edge of the fire and placed more tinder on top to create a small blazing fire which would quickly burn away to more ashes.

Sherlock returned once more from the stream with more fresh water.

"Do you have anything in your basket to make tea?" He asked hopefully. " I ran out some time ago and have not replenished my supply."

"Oh yes." Molly beamed. "Do you prefer sage, chamomile or blueberry?"

"Blueberry please." Sherlock smiled gratefully.

Molly nodded enthusiastically. Blueberry was her favorite. She steeped the dried blueberries in the heated water and added a small dried leaf and handed the brew to Sherlock.

Sherlock looked doubtfully at the leaf floating on top of the tea.

"What is this?" he asked, pointing to the objectionable object.

Molly looked at him curiously. Didn't he sweeten his tea?

" It's called stevia, it makes your tea sweet. I can make you another cup if you prefer unsweetened."

Sherlock took a cautious sip. His eyes widened and his lips spread into a wide smile.

"This is delicious!" he declared. "It's much better than drinking it bitter."

Molly smiled in thanks, but hastened to say, "My tea is never bitter, even without sweetener. Don't you ever use honey when you are home?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I'm allergic to bees and their honey. The last time I was stung, my hand swelled to the size of a small melon.

Molly nodded. She had heard about the unusual reactions honey and bees could cause in some people. It was even rumored that one man had actually died of it. He had been an outlander however and everyone knew outlanders were strange with even stranger ailments.

Soon the fish was steam baked to perfection. Molly pulled them from the ashes as Sherlock rooted in his bag once more and produced two tin plates. The fish were delicious. Sherlock ate his and half of Molly's with relish. He was such an odd person Molly thought as she watched him lick his fingers. For such a confident and resourceful person he was singularly lacking in culinary skills. Perhaps when he was home he had others cook for him, though Molly could not imagine anyone rich enough to have servants. She watched him covertly as she cleared and straightened their campsite. He was lying on the ground leaning on his elbow., absently twirling a straw of grass in his teeth as he gazed at the ground apparently at nothing in particular. Whatever he was thinking about, it was not pleasant. There was definitely a frown forming on his face.

"Are we going into The Deep today?" Molly asked timidly. She wasn't sure he was in the mood to talk.

"What? No." Sherlock stood in one fluid movement and crossed over to stand beside her. They looked at the forest. It seemed dark and menacing. "The Deep is no place to enter this late in the day. And besides there's going to be a storm. We'll be safer out here than under the trees." He pointed to the south and Molly could see dark clouds gathering. It was going to storm. Molly did not want to think of how miserable it would be sitting in the open with only a blanket to protect her, but it would be much safer than under trees. Storms from the south often came with high winds. The forest was no place to be in a windstorm. She sighed in resignation.

Sherlock however was busy with his pack once more. To Molly's amazement he pulled out a small tent complete with collapsible wooden rods that fitted together to provide supports. In no time at all it was erected and pegged securely to the ground. Molly couldn't believe it. The man was no end of surprises.

"How on earth did you manage to carry that in so small a pack?" she asked.

Sherlock glanced at the pack then back at her with a small grin. "It stretches, besides it's bigger than it looks on the outside," and that was all he would say about it.

Molly stared as he gathered his things and disappeared inside the tent. Just when she thought she was beginning to understand him a little he pulled something like this. There was absolutely no way that tent could fit inside that pack. What was going on?

Sherlock's head popped out of the opening of the tent in question.

"Well, hurry up! If you get wet I won't let you share my nice dry tent." His head disappeared inside as heavy raindrops began to fall.

Molly quickly gathered her belongings and scurried inside. The tent was very small, obviously intended for a single occupant. Sherlock had already spread his marvelous 'coat' on the canvas floor and patted the small space beside him indicating where Molly was to sit. Molly looked at the spot with some distress.

"Th-there's not much room," she stuttered. "Perhaps it would be best if I remained outside."

Sherlock frowned. "If you think I'm going to gallantly offer you this tent to yourself while I drown outside think again. I won't bite. I'm immune to your potion. I don't find you attractive at all, so you have nothing to worry about. Now sit down!"

Molly bit her lip. He didn't find her attractive? A small part of her sighed in disappointment while the rest of her sighed in relief. She reluctantly settled down beside him. Stowing her basket to the side, she untied the blanket covered herself and lay down with her back to Sherlock.

She could hear the rain pelting on the canvas and tried not to think what it would have been like outside without the tent. Molly began to doze off. It had been a long day and she was very tired.

Every thing went well until some time later Molly awoke to a loud clap and a bright flash of light. The storm was worse and now thunder and lightning crashed a banged all about them. Molly gave a loud shriek as a particularly loud boom of thunder sounded close by. With an unthinking whimper she moved into Sherlock's arms. She felt him stiffen.

"Molly, what do you think you are doing?" Sherlock asked cautiously as if he weren't sure what was happening.

"I don't like thunder." Molly whispered in a low voice. "I don't like it at all," She cried out as another boom sounded and pressed closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock stared dumfounded into the darkness. His usually brilliant brain was having trouble processing the fact that this woman who had preformed so admirably earlier this day was afraid of something so simple as a thunderstorm.

"You are perfectly safe inside this tent," he assured her gently. Her only response was to cling closer and issue a small groan. He found himself tentatively patting her back. He didn't like being touched. He never touched anyone else. The thought of touching someone usually repelled him. He warily patted her back. Her head was tucked under his chin and her soft mutters tickled slightly against his throat. To his immense surprise he found that touching Molly Hooper wasn't repulsive at all.


	5. Chapter 5 -Problems

Chapter Five - Problems

Molly awoke to the sounds of quiet groans. Sherlock of Holmes was apparently dreaming. She shifted her body a little and the moans stopped, and his arm tightened about her. It was still dark, but the storm had passed. She could still hear the soft patter of rain on the canvas of the tent. It had a soothing sound.

Molly found herself facing away from the man next to her, their bodies neatly spooned together. It was quite comfortable she realized. Molly had never been so close to a man other than her father before and she found the experience surprisingly nice. She was warm under their shared blanket. His face was gently pressed into the back of her neck, his breath tickling slightly as he breathed in and out. He had one arm around her waist and she decided she could easily get used to this position. She felt safe, in a disturbing kind of way that couldn't quite be described. It was kind of like cuddling up to a strange dog that acted friendly, but you weren't quite sure whether or not it just might eat you alive. Molly shivered a little, it was so strange. She lay there quietly absorbing the feel of him. He smelled nice, she noted, a kind of woodsy and clothing baked in sunshine smell with an underlying scent that she instinctively knew was just him. All in all, it was a very pleasing aroma.

The men from her village did not smell so sweet. Their odor often announced their arrival before they came around a corner. Bathing was not a high priority for them. Molly had made a game of guessing who the man was before turning to look. She could identify most of them by nose alone.

Molly had always practiced her father's instruction that cleanliness was important to good health, besides she had a sensitive nose. It was one of the many reasons why she was still single at the advanced age of thirty-two. Another was her resentment of idiots thinking they were better than she just because of their gender. Most of the townspeople considered her quite plain in appearance. They constantly remarked about her thinness and small frame. More than one country man had remarked in her hearing that they preferred women with a little meat to their bones. Molly resented that they didn't seem to mind hurting her feelings and treating her like a pig or cow that needed to be fattened up for market. The fact that everyone still considered her to be an outlander because her father moved to the village only thirty years ago did not help. Strangers were not accepted easily. The result of all this was inevitable spinsterhood.

Molly didn't mind much. She had never met a man she thought was worth a second glance. Not until recently. Not until this overly tall creature walked into her life. He intimidated her a little, but in spite of the fact that he was often arrogant, annoying and even unbearable, he drew her. She resented that part of her wanted to please him, to seek his approval. She didn't want to be drawn.

He certainly was no prize. He was way too tall, his arms and legs seemed to go on forever. His hands were too big and his feet were massive. He was thinner than she was and resembled a sapling stripped of its limbs. His head was too big. His lips too fleshy. His eyebrows too bushy. When he wore his funny pointy hat, it made his face look too long. Yesterday evening she noticed his beard beginning to grow in and it was ginger. GINGER! Whoever heard of a man having a ginger beard and black hair? In spite of all these oddities, she reluctantly admitted to herself he was rather nice looking. The sum of all his defects had melded into a pleasing whole. And no one would deny that his eyes were beautiful, least of all her. She had never seen blue eyes before. They shone with incredible intelligence and that fascinated her the most. Intelligence was a rare prize, and deserved her respect. Molly wondered what this strange man thought of her and decided wisely that she didn't want to know. She snuggled back closer to him and drifted back to sleep.

- ɸ -

"Woman!" An angry male voice roared." What have you done to me! Get out here now!"

Molly's eyes popped open. What was going on? Were they being attacked? Molly rolled out of the tent, grabbed her quarterstaff and stood in one fluid motion. Her eyes rapidly cast about searching for the source of whatever peril must be faced. All she saw was Sherlock hunched over his pack, a mirror in his hand. "What on earth is going on?" she asked.

"Just look at what you have done!" Sherlock bellowed as he turned to face Molly.

"How am I going to lead you into The Deep when I can't even hold a mirror correctly?"

It was true, his fingers were covered in splotchy bumps and were swollen to the point the mirror was in danger of dropping from his hands. That wasn't the only thing that was swollen or covered in spots and bumps. She could tell his bare feet were affected and his face was almost unrecognizable. He didn't look much like a human.

"Oh my," Molly gasped. "You look terrible. You can't think that this is my fault. I have done nothing to you!"

Sherlock glared out of the slits that were all that were left of his eyes. "Of course it's your fault!" he gritted. "I mention to you that I am allergic to honey and you try to do me in whilst I sleep? What did you do? Pour a whole pot on me?"

Molly opened her mouth to deny any wrong doing but shut it again quickly when a thought occurred to her.

"Oh my," she said again this time in a very small voice. "I do believe you may be correct. I am so sorry."

"Of course I'm correct!" Sherlock snapped. "What is it? Do you hate men so much that you must harm an innocent stranger?"

"I don't think anyone would ever describe you as innocent," Molly retorted with an irritated note in her meek voice. "I didn't do it on purpose. I forgot all about your allergy. It's the love potion. It's base is honey. Honey for a sweet disposition. I can definitely tell you are immune to its effects," She said a rather tartly. "I will make some soothing salve for you. It will help with the swelling."

"Don't bother, I think you've 'helped' more than I can handle for one day, and we haven't even had breakfast yet."

Molly hung her head in shame. It wasn't her fault. But she felt responsible. She should have remembered he was allergic to honey. "I'm truly sorry." she said sadly.

Sherlock stared at her for a few moments then snorted. "I'm going to change and bathe. I suppose everything you've touched is contaminated. I'll have to wash everything inside the tent and burn what can't be cleansed." He eyed Molly as if she were a carrier of the plague.

"It doesn't operate like that." Molly tried to explain. "It doesn't settle on objects. it uses scent and skin to skin contact to work. You are immune to the effects of the potion, so the smell is not a problem. However, we did have some very limited skin to skin contact." Molly's face flushed at the thought of how her words sounded in the bright morning sunlight. "So," she bravely continued, "there must have been enough honey in my skin to trigger your allergies when we . . . touched. Your coat and my blanket are not susceptible." she finished with a rush and stared at the ground.

Sherlock snorted, turned and gathered up a change of clothing, a towel and a cake of soap. "Be ready to leave when I get back," he growled. He headed through the tall grass in the direction of the stream still grumbling under his breath.

Molly sighed. She wished Anderson was sitting across from her right now. She distinctly felt the need to beat him with her staff.

- ɸ -

Molly washed in the rainwater that had collected in the pot left on the drowned remains of last night's fire. She decided going to the stream to bathe was too risky. She might accidentally come across Sherlock. She didn't even want to think about what might happen. It was much safer with a quick wash and change of knickers. He seemed to be taking a very long time. After she had gathered her things together, she began sorting through some of her rarer herbs. Satisfied with her selections, she placed them on the flat rock she had been sitting on and started grinding the herbs with a small smooth rock from her pouch. She hummed as she worked adding a small amount of water.

Molly looked up at the sounds of Sherlock's return. He looked terrible. If anything his face was more swollen. She felt pity swell inside her. After all, it wasn't his fault he looked like an inflated pig's bladder. And his poor lips were swollen and misshaped so much they resembled the mouth of the trout they had for supper last night. Oh dear!

She watched silently as he struggled to pull his boots on his feet. With stiffened fingers the size of sausages he wasn't having much luck. Poor man. Molly stood up from where she had been bending over the rock. She looked at Sherlock steadily.

Pulling on the leather gloves she used for collecting thorns and the like, she made sure her hands and arms were covered from fingers to elbows. She walked over and stood in front of Sherlock.

"Y-you are miserable," she quavered softly. "Please allow me to help Sherlock. I have made a mixture that will sooth the swelling. Will you allow me to use it on your feet? If you don't like it I will stop." Molly smiled a little timidly at him. What was it about this man that affected her so? She wasn't nervous around anyone else.

Sherlock of Holmes stared into Molly Hooper's soft pleading eyes. If his face hadn't been so swollen, Molly might have seen a softening of expression. As it was he merely nodded his assent and waited as she scooped the herbs into her hands.

"This would work better if I had some fat to mix it in, but I think it will still work." Molly frowned slightly as Sherlock held up a hand the size of a horse turnip.

"Wait, I have some." She heard him mumble. He went over to his ever-abundant pack and pulled out a small stone pot sealed with wax. "Will lard work?" he asked.

Molly smiled, nodded and took the small container from his bloated fingers. She quickly mixed her herbs into the lard. Kneeling before a seated Sherlock she began to gently rub the salve onto the tops and bottom of his feet. Rubbing, massaging carefully. She looked up and even through his swollen features she could see a look of wonder. Molly quickly lowered her eyes. This small act of kindness was curiously intimate. Even with the gloves on she felt slightly embarrassed. She ran her fingers up the sides of his ankles and rubbed them gently in small circles. She paused when she heard a groan of pleasure roll over her head. Keeping her head down she continued moving up and down each ankle until all the herbs had been absorbed into the skin.

"May I continue?" she asked softly.

"Oh my, yes," Sherlock groaned in voice that had Molly's face turning beet red.

She took one of his hands in hers and hesitantly began to smooth the ointment over the tops and palms. His hands were strong and rather large. In their current condition they were easily four or five times larger than normal. But even when back to their correct size they would be twice the size of her own. Molly felt a curious tingling in the pit of her stomach.

"They are just hands," she told herself severely. "You can't even feel them properly through your gloves."

No matter how she silently scolded herself, it didn't stop the tingling. When she moved to work the joints of each of his fingers she thought she would die of embarrassment at the sound of Sherlock's quiet hums and intakes of breath. The man was only relaxing, but it was certainly having the opposite effect on her. As she gently pressed her fingers back and forth between his thumb and first finger he sighed so deeply Molly thought she just might faint. She wasn't sure she could survive much more if he continued to sound like that. Time to move on.

Molly stood gracefully and began to pat the mixture on to Sherlock's forehead. Working gently she slowly smoothed the herbs and worked them into his scalp. He didn't really need them in that area but Molly felt compelled to work her fingers methodically through his thick curls and down to the back of his neck where she firmly kneaded the muscles of his neck and shoulders. With grunts of satisfaction and enjoyment Sherlock closed his eyes and basked under Molly's marvelous fingers.

As she worked around to the front of his long neck, she could feel him swallowing rather compulsively as her hands moved smoothly up and down under his chin.

"Careful Molly." she warned herself. She felt like she could massage him here forever. She forced herself to move down to the collar bones and shoulders in front. "Be professional Molly. He's just a patient who needs your healing touch!"

No matter how she scolded herself it didn't change the fact of how much she was enjoying this. Her eyes widened at the thought of how he would feel without her gloves on. Oh dear!

Finally, her fingers moved up and began to knead those high cheekbones, softly moving to caress his nose and ears. Molly had thought touching his neck was overwhelming, but it was nothing to how she felt when she began to massage his lips. "Oh my!" It was especially disturbing the way he kept watching her face. His eyes locked with hers. She thought she was going to drown in those eyes. Molly couldn't look away. She swore to herself that she could see eternity in those eyes. It was devastating. She was vastly relived when he closed them suddenly and sighed deeply. She used the opportunity to glance away and lower her face shyly.

The massage was complete. There was nothing more to do except move away. Molly tried to back away. She truly did. It was her feet that rebelled. They refused to move. She glanced down at them and saw Sherlock's feet placed between hers. They weren't touching, but Molly thought it was one of the most erotic things she had ever seen. Then she noticed something incredible.

The mood was broken and Molly came back to herself in her excitement.

"Oh! Look at your feet!" she exclaimed. "The swelling is almost gone! It must be so fast acting because of the limited amount of honey still in my skin!"

She backed away from Sherlock so he could see that It was true. His feet were back to normal. Molly watched in fascination as Sherlock wiggled his toes and laughed. His hands were smaller as well. His fingers opening and closing into a fist with ease. He was returning to normal quite rapidly now.

He looked at her with a satisfied grin that actually was a grin and not a grimace. His lips were still puffy, but Molly thought they only looked rather like he had been well kissed instead of the embarrassing fish like lips of a few minutes ago. Molly's heart swelled with happiness. She had been able to help after all.

"Thank you, Molly Hooper." Sherlock's deep tones vibrated. For a moment they stared at each other. Then the moment was gone as Sherlock stood and stretched his body about.

Molly could hear the gratitude and bloomed in his praise. She didn't know this man very well, but she was already sure she would do most anything to see him smile.

"Would you like something to eat? I have bread and cheese," he said as he crossed to his pack and pulled the items out along with a knife and began to slice thick crusty slices of bread. Placing cheese on the bread, he carefully handed the food to a now gloveless Molly. She accepted his offering with a trembling smile.

This was certainly a let down after such an intense emotional experience, but Molly was grateful for the ease in which Sherlock faced the situation. He didn't apologize or even mention his reactions to Molly's touch. He didn't comment about Molly's somewhat obvious response.

He just smiled and said, "I'll fetch water for us to drink," and headed off to the small stream.

Molly watched his broad shoulders disappear into the tall grass and promptly felt her feet give out from under her. Oh my! Her emotions were all in a tizzy. What was she going to do? How could she feel this way about someone she couldn't even touch?

Molly was relieved when a more familiar Sherlock returned from the stream with the water. His gruff voice urged her to hurry with her food. He folded the tent and shoved it into his pack with ease. Molly was determined to figure out what was going on with that pack. She hesitated bringing up the subject. She didn't want to spoil the happy feeling that was bouncing about inside her. It could wait. They had a long way to go. There would be plenty of time to ask about the pack.

Molly looked at Sherlock of Holmes. Was it possible she had met him only yesterday? How incredible. She looked at his hair slicked back with salve. She liked his curls best, but this look definitely had something going for it. She took a deep breath and began to relax as they headed across the last mile. They were actually going into The Deep!


	6. Chapter 6 - Pixie Problems

Chapter Six - Pixie Problems

In a few minutes, Molly and Sherlock stood staring at the dark forest in front of them. It was intimidating. Suddenly Molly felt rather unsure of herself. What was she thinking? This was serious. All her life she had been told about the dangers of The Deep. People who went into The Deep rarely returned. Those who did return were changed, a shadow of whom they were before. It was said The Deep was harder on women than men. Men came out, silent, moody and unwilling to share their experiences. Women came out stark raving mad.

She glanced sideways at her companion. Had he changed during his crossing of The Deep on his way to fetch her? He was certainly silent and moody at the moment. How would he change during this return journey?

"What is it like?" she whispered. "The Deep?"

Sherlock looked over and down at his companion, shook his head and rumbled: "I don't know, I went around it when I left Holmes."

"Oh," Molly said in surprise. "I just assumed you crossed The Deep. You said Holmes was on the other side of the forest."

"It is. I went around because I was searching for an herbalist. I've been away from Holmes for over a year. Good herbalists are difficult to find. Most are charlatans and some are even faeries in disguise. I have had a most frustrating journey," Sherlock replied.

"Perhaps we should return to your village the same way?" Molly asked. She didn't relish traveling with this man for over a year, but it might be the wisest choice. She eyed the forest with trepidation.

Sherlock snorted. "Holmes is not a village! It is a kingdom! We have a castle with a moat and everything," he stated with thick sarcasm. "Do you really wish to fight off every man you come across for a whole year? You are good with that staff, but it won't be enough, even with my help. I won't be able to watch your back constantly. I do sleep occasionally. Besides I've been away from Holmes too long already. Crossing The Deep will cut our time considerably."

"Well, at least we won't meet any people in there." Molly reluctantly agreed. "Perhaps it is the best way."

"Oh, I wouldn't go so far as to say there are no people," Sherlock drawled. "There are lots of people in The Deep. I'm just not sure how human they are."

He cocked his head to the side as he stared down at her. For no reason, Molly felt her cheeks redden in a blush. She forced herself to think of the task at hand.

"Then you don't know what we are about to face either." she said glumly.

Suddenly Sherlock's face lightened into a grin.

"We are embarking on an adventure of a lifetime Molly Hooper!" he announced. "There will be danger, surprises and mayhem galore! Chin up. The game is on!" With that, he squared his shoulders and plunged into The Deep. Molly trailing reluctantly behind.

- ɸ -

The Deep was every bit as strange as Molly had thought it would be. Yet surprisingly, after a few minutes, she wasn't afraid. Sherlock shoved through briars and brush as if he owned the place. His steady pace seeming to say that the terrors of The Deep might be very real, but they had best beware of Sherlock of Holmes. The man was a tornado in progress. The spring in his step indicated his eagerness to face any challenge The Deep had to offer. She suspected she was suffering from sensory overload. There was only so much fear her mind could process and his enthusiasm was catching. She began to relax and even enjoy herself a little. As her companion stalked ahead, Molly began to feel confident that together they could face what ever came their way. She wasn't sure why this man made her feel so optimistic, but she was strangely content in his company.

- ɸ -

it was cold. Molly shivered. Sherlock waited impatiently as she unwrapped her blanket pack and shoved her spare clothing rather haphazardly on top of her already full basket. Tying the ends of the blanket to form a makeshift cloak, she picked up her basket and staff and nodded to Sherlock. Without speaking he pushed his way deeper into the forest. Molly held the blanket closed with the hand that held her basket. Holding her staff as a walking stick in the other, she struggled to keep up with Sherlock's long strides. Soon the trees were so thick that what was a sunny day outside became a grey dimly lighted gloom within The Deep. Even the leaves of the towering trees overhead seemed to quiver in grayness. The increasing darkness made the forest floor dim and otherworldly. Here and there a shaft of sunlight filtered down and made a feeble attempt to lighten their way, palely shinning down in narrow strips of light.

Several hours later found them walking though ever increasing thickness of trees. Now the underbrush thinned until it disappeared altogether. Under the massive branches of the ancient trees Molly could hear the sighing of the wind as it moved through the treetops. It was an eerie unsettling sound. Bringing thoughts of graveyards at midnight and lonely caverns. Molly thought she could almost hear voices whispering. It was the only sound. No birdsongs, no insects, no animals; only the wind and the creaking branches.

At midday, they stopped to rest beside a stream so small it could hardly warrant being called a brook. Molly lay her things on the leaf-covered ground and thankfully sat upon a fallen tree trunk. Sherlock fumbled with his pack a bit and produced more bread and cheese. He collected water from the stream and soon had a small fire going and the pan of water heating for tea.

Molly watched him as he preformed the small duties. He was quite used to living in the rough she decided. Despite the posh and strange looking cloak covering his fine green tunic and brown trousers he was at ease performing the necessary chores required to survive in the wilderness.

- ɸ -

They stumbled across a faint trail soon after lunch. Sherlock mumbled to himself as he poked the path with his staff several times. She heard the words trap and trick and danger before he evidently decided it was safe enough to use. The path made their journey much easier. Their travel became swift in comparison to their previous progress. Every few minutes they would come to a point where the path would divide into two paths. Sherlock would pause, consult an instrument he pulled from his coat he called a compass, and depending on its readings would choose either the left or right path. After about three hours Sherlock suddenly stopped and stared with a frown at the ground before him.

"What's wrong?" Molly asked as she came around the corner to find Sherlock kneeling on the path.

Sherlock gave a snort of disgust and pointed to two pair of faint footprints in the trail. Molly looked closer. "Those are our prints!" She exclaimed.

Sherlock nodded, "It appears we have been traveling in a circle."

"But you checked each path change with that strange device!"

"Yes," Sherlock agreed. "Evidently my compass does not work correctly in this area, or more likely, we have purposely been mislead." He stood up quickly and began to search the tree line along the path with his eyes.

"You can come out now," he announced to no one Molly could see. "Your game is up. You have won fair."

A soft tittering could be heard and to Molly's surprise Three tiny people dressed in forest browns and greens appeared from behind trees snickering behind their hands. The tallest little fellow barely came up to Molly's knee. The other two were somewhat shorter, the smallest was female. All three were slim and very quick on their feet. The tallest fellow sidled up to Sherlock who was now sitting on a fallen tree and hopped up beside him.

"Fair you well, wizard." he said. "I am called Aacrum. He pointed to the other man. "This is Pyrus." He grunted as he helped pull his companion up on the fallen log beside him.

"And your lady friend?" Sherlock asked as he watched the small female standing beside Molly.

"Oh...her," Aacrum dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Just a female, you may call her Twiggy."

Twiggy frowned at the men which now apparently included Sherlock and made a rude noise and stuck out her tongue. She turned to Molly and smiled. "What is your name fair one and how to you happen to be traveling The Deep in the company of a wizard?"

" Hello Twiggy, my name is Molly." Molly said a little bemused. "And he's not a wizard. His name is Sherlock of Holmes."

Sherlock frowned heavily at Molly and sighed. Molly got the distinct impression that he wished she had kept quiet about their names. Molly lifted her chin. She was not going to let Sherlock make her feel bad. What was wrong about exchanging names with these little people? They seemed harmless enough. She glared defiantly at Sherlock who only sighed and shook his head wearily.

Aacum beamed. "You have graced us with your names! You must join us this eve in our festivities! You will be our most honored guests. Say you will come?

"Yes of course we will." Molly assured the little man. She glanced at Sherlock who was staring at the ground. "We'd be delighted, wouldn't we Sherlock?" Molly insisted. Sherlock frowned but nodded his head reluctantly. At the assent of both humans the little folk gathered excitedly a few feet away and began to chatter amongst themselves, planning the evenings event. Molly took the opportunity to sit on the log beside Sherlock.

"What's wrong?" Molly said in a curious voice. "You seem upset with me. Don't you like these small folk? I find them rather endearing." Molly looked at Sherlock who continued to frown.

"Pixies," Sherlock growled. "They are pixies!" Seeing Molly's blank look, he sighed and continued. "Pixies are small beings who are very mischievous creatures. They delight in trickery and games. They are the ones responsible for our path going in a circle. By telling them our names you have given them power over us for a day and a night. We will have to do everything they ask of us during that time." Sherlock sighed again.

"Oh my!" Molly breathed. She looked in aghast at Sherlock. "We must to anything they ask?"

"Yes." Sherlock answered. " Pixies have great imaginations. We must be on our guard. They will try to trick us into staying with them. People have been known to return from what they thought was a short visit with the pixies to discover years have passed. We must be wary or the same will happen to us."

"Oh my!" Molly repeated. "Sherlock, I am so sorry. I had no idea just telling them our names could cause such a problem!"

"Next time let me handle things. You are much too trusting, Molly Hooper."

Molly opened her mouth to argue then shut it. He was right. He didn't have to be so disagreeable about it, but he was right. She was too naive.

"What is done is done," Sherlock continued to grumble. "We can only hope this lot is more dull than their cousins in Cornwall."

Molly turned to watch the pixies who were still huddled together talking excitedly. At one point, Pyrus stood up, stared at Sherlock for a moment, then hunched back down and chattered rapidly to his two companions. Obviously, he was talking about them. Molly could only hope that it was something friendly. Now that Sherlock had identified them as pixies, Molly could detect a slight wildness in their manner.

At that moment the pixies broke their huddle and turned to face them. Pyrus placed two fingers in his mouth and produced a whistle like sound that was eerily sweet. Soon a thundering gallop could be heard coming down the path and a beautiful red hind came to a halt before them. The animal ignored Sherlock and Molly as it knelt before the three little folk. The pixies clambered on her back and the hind stood back up waiting patiently.

"Follow us!" Aacrum shouted as he nudged the hind with his heels and it was off down the path in a gallop, the riders shouting at the tops of their tiny voices urging the deer to go faster. Soon their voices could be heard coming up behind them and as the hind rushed madly past them Aacrum could be heard yelling insults to Sherlock and Molly about their slow progress.

"How did they do that?" Molly wondered aloud. "First they were in front of us and now they pass us?"

Sherlock merely snorted and said. "Pixies are natural show offs! Obviously, they are changing the path again."

"I mean exactly how are they changing the path?" Molly clarified.

"With magic, of course!"

"Oh my!" Molly was horrified, "Magic! Sherlock we must escape before their dark spells capture us forever!" Molly turned to run the opposite direction, but found that her feet refused to take a single step.

"Do calm down, Molly, not all magic is dark. Pixie magic is troublesome, but is easily outmaneuvered with a little wit and intelligence. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the darkest magic, pixie magic rates a two, or at most a three. Yes, we are trapped into doing their will for a day and night, but you gave them the power. Power given thus is always weaker than if one is overpowered against one's will. We could have avoided all this had you known not to be so free about introducing us, but stay calm, we will be on our way tomorrow morning if you follow my lead." Sherlock said all this in his most arrogant voice, but Molly decided she was not going to be offended. He was only stating the facts.

Somewhere up ahead came sounds of crashing and thrashing. Over the pained shrilling call of an injured animal, tiny voices could be heard screaming in agony. Sherlock and Molly looked at one another and broke out into a run. As they rounded the corner, they could see the hind was down, her legs wrapped in netting. Aacrum was still clinging to the deer's back, but Pyrus and Twiggy were lying on the path. There was a large bloody gash on Pyrus's face and Twiggy sat up and began to rub a rapidly swelling ankle. Sherlock set about carefully pulling the netting that was a tangled mess about the hinds legs as Molly quickly applied pressure to the cut on Pyrus's face. It was deep but she soon had it under control. Applying a soothing salve to the cut she bound the injury with clean rags from her basket. Next, she moved to Twiggy, but the small woman begged her to care for the deer first.

"Here rub this salve on your ankle," Molly instructed.

"I can wait, check her first. Twiggy pointed to the injured deer.." Molly reluctantly obeyed Twiggy's request and moved to kneel beside the now net free animal.

"I fear she has been rather severely injured. She made need to be put down." Sherlock told Molly quietly.

"Not on my watch!" Molly growled. "Who would do such a terrible thing to a harmless deer?"

"It was a faerie trap, my Lady. Faeries are mortal enemies of Pixies. They will do anything to hurt us," Twiggy said angrily.

"What do you intend to do Molly? This poor animal is in agony. Don't you think it would be better to put it out of misery quickly rather than leave it suffer?" Sherlock asked.

"Be quiet," Molly ordered. She approached the hind and knelt by it's head and gently began to stroke its muzzle.

Sherlock sat back on his heels and watched as Molly gently rubbed the hind's muzzle and talked in low reassuring words. The animal accepted Molly's touch and allowed her to run her hands over its body as she searched for injuries. As her hands moved, Molly began to quietly hum a tune. After a bit, words replaced the hum as Molly continued to move her hands over the deer's body. The tune was high and hauntingly beautiful.

_**Soft as a willow wisp.**_

_**Calm as a quiet stream,**_

_**Heal all injuries found**_

_**Till they fade as in a dream.**_

_**Strengthen heart and soul.**_

_**Blood flow swift and true.**_

_**Internal organs do your work**_

_**Together all things renew.**_

_**Joints be supple, legs be swift.**_

_**Proudly hold the body sure.**_

_**Head be noble, brain be bright**_

_**Restore all functions in the cure.**_

The hind struggled to it's feet and stood nuzzling Molly in thanks. Molly pulled her hands away and tiredly sat back. No one said anything for a time. Finally Aacrum whispered. "You have the gift! My lady, I am speechless!"

Aacrum sank to his knees before Molly and placed his head on the ground before her. Twiggy and Pyrus following suit. Even Sherlock's eyes were startled.

"Who are you, Molly Hooper?" He whispered as he gazed into her tired eyes..

"Just me, Sherlock. No different than I was an hour past," Molly answered tiredly. Molly lay back on the forest path and fell into a deep sleep.

"We can't stay here, Lord Sherlock." Aacrum said urgently. The faeries may return any moment.

Sherlock nodded. He glanced at the unconscious Molly sleeping peacefully on the ground. "I'll need your help he said as he began to pull rope from his pack. Soon they were ready. Sherlock and the pixies had rigged up a way to tie all of Molly's and Sherlock's belongings to the back of the now completely healed hind. Making sure their quarterstaffs hung on the right side of the deer and were easily accessible if needed, Sherlock tied his blue scarf around Molly's face and neck. The pixies tugged her long gloves onto her hand and arms. They were ready.

"We must hurry," Aacrum urged. "With faeries about we need to get home before dark."

Sherlock nodded and helped the pixies up onto the back of the hind. He leaned down and scooped up a still sleeping Molly in his strong arms. She was such a little thing, hardly any weight at all. "I'm ready," he told Aacrum.

Together the small group headed down the path to the home of the pixies. Sherlock was not sure what would happen when they got there, but he was sure of one thing; Molly Hooper was a very surprising young woman. Something inside him wanted rather badly to understand who and what she was.

The sun hung low over the tree tops casting long shadows behind them as the small group of new found friends headed to home and safety.


	7. Chapter 7 - Lilligrotto

Chapter Seven - Lilligrotto

The sun had disappeared beneath the tops of the trees by the time the small party of unusual companions arrived at their destination. Already it was difficult to discern their surroundings amongst the grays and shadows that slid down the steep hills to wrap silvery fingers between the rocks and trees of the valley. Aacrum leaned forward and whispered into the hind's velvety soft ear. Coming to a halt, the deer knelt as the pixies slid from her back. Aacrum removed the ropes holding Sherlock and Molly's possessions. Receiving pats of thanks from her passengers, the hind nuzzled Aacrum, then sprang away to blend into the gloom in a matter of moments. Molly, now awake and feeling more like her usual self, stood beside Sherlock and watched in wonder. It was still hard to believe that the hind had been so comfortable in their presence. The Deep was truly a place of surprises.

Sherlock frowned slightly and faced Aacrum. "I thought you said we were going to your village? I don't see anything but rocks and trees."

Aacrum looked up and gave Sherlock a mischievous grin. He turned and pointed to a low rocky overhang a few feet away. There Sherlock saw a small hole not much taller than Aacrum.

'Well come to Lilligrotto," he said proudly. As he spoke, several dozen pixies rushed out of the overhanging rocks that sheltered the entrance to the pixie realm. Torches were lit and placed in holders concealed about the opening. The crowd grew and began chattering excitedly and pointing at the large strangers in their midst. Aacrum held up a hand and frowned until everyone grew quiet.

"We have guests!" he announced rather importantly. "They have very graciously shared their names!"

This lead to a raucous roar of approval from the ever increasing group gathering about them.

"This is Sherlock of Homes and Molly . . ." Aacrum looked at Molly expectantly and Molly smiled and said. "Hooper, my name is Molly Hooper."

"Molly Hooper," Aacrum continued. "Since they are to be our honored guests for a night and a day, it is only proper that we entertain them with a feast and a party that will be remembered for years to come!"

All the pixies began to jump up and down, cheering and making all sorts of noise. Sherlock looked at Molly and gave her a fatalistic shrug. There was nothing to do but to join in the festivities and hope for the best. Molly grinned back. When Sherlock had told her they were under pixie control, she had worried what that might entail, but surely a feast and a party would be harmless. She was now certain it was nothing to be alarmed about.

Pixies of all sizes and shapes gathered about them. From lean and tall (at least tall for a pixie), to short and rotund. Most of the young girls were slim and beautiful. Molly noticed more than one of them eyeing Sherlock speculatively. The young men began to gather around Molly, making her slightly nervous. Aacrum and Pyrus had not seemed to be affected by the love potion, but these men were much younger and Molly began to have uncomfortable thoughts of what this time amongst the Pixies might mean for her.

"Ah Edrin!, good, good!" Aacrum addressed an elderly pixie who had just come from the rock entrance. "Our Mage has arrived at last, we are in much need of your services Elder." Aacrum bowed respectfully to the old pixie who was carrying a small black pack very similar to Sherlock's, except it was much smaller.

Edrin walked around Sherlock and eyed him up and down. "Tall one aren't you? Even for a human!" the old one said with a grin. "I'll wager you lead the girls a merry chase! Well never you mind, our lasses know just how to please, even if it takes two of them to do it!" He cackled merrily and began to climb the rocks behind Sherlock. Soon he was high enough to stare him in the eyes. "Begging your pardon sire, 'tis a shame to bewitch a fellow wizard, but if it must be so, let it at least be enjoyable for you!"

" I'm not a wi..." Sherlock began, but the old pixie paid no attention to him, casting his hand forward and releasing tiny, shiny bits of glittering dust which enveloped Sherlock completely making him sneeze rather vigorously. Sherlock glared at the diminutive pixie, and for a while it appeared that nothing was going to happen. Then suddenly Sherlock's eyes rolled back in his head and with a loud popping sound he disappeared.

Molly screamed. Where Sherlock once stood, was only a pile of garments and his cloak. Sherlock was no where to be seen.

"What have you done with him?" Molly rushed up the elderly elf. "Bring him back! He has done no harm to you or your kind!" Molly glared into the old man's wrinkled face. "Bring him back immediately!"

'Hush, child," the mage soothed quietly. "I have done no ill, look." He pointed to the pile of clothing that had once contained Sherlock of Holmes and Molly could see that indeed there were wiggling and twitching movements beneath the material. Soon a head of black curls and small white arms and shoulders could be seen struggling to make their way clear of the now oversized garments.

"Sherlock!" Molly called as she rushed forward to help him free himself. With a grunt that was several octaves higher than normal Sherlock of Holmes cast what was once his tunic aside and stood up glaring about. Arms folded across his chest he frowned up at a huge Molly.

"This is your fault, Molly Hooper," he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh my!" Molly squeaked and hastily turned her back. Sherlock of Holmes was now the size of the surrounding pixies and he was as naked as the day he was born.

"Your turn, my dear!" the pixie mage announced and Molly found herself breathing in the glittery particles as they cascaded down over her body. The last thing she remembered was a loud popping sound.

She came to and struggled upward through what seemed like a mountain of smothering material. As her head and upper body freed itself from the clinging cloth, she gasped a deep breath of fresh air. Realizing her nakedness for the first time, she squeaked with embarrassment and quickly dove back under the white material of her knickers. She peeped out cautiously and was completely mortified to lock eyes with her still tall but definitely somewhat shorter companion. Molly's face and chest turned beet red with embarrassment. She quickly pulled her knickers up over her head. The man had no shame. Sherlock was just standing there, not even trying to cover himself!

Oh dear! Even though she now could not see him, her mind kept forming pictures of him. His image was burned into her retinas. She heard his deep snigger and her ears grew so hot she thought they would go up in smoke and steam any moment. Facing away from Sherlock, Molly lowered her cover enough to glance about. She immediately wished she had remained hidden. She was drawing a crowd. Dozens of interested young men were now gathered about her. Their ardent gazes leaving no doubt about their intent. Darn Anderson, darn the love potion, darn Sherlock of Holmes! It just wasn't fair. She had not asked for any of this! What was she to do? Her staff and sling were too large and heavy to be of any use.

Edrin clapped his hands sharply. "Beatrix! Where are the cloaks? Our guests will be getting chilled!" This brought a round of titters from all the ladies in the crowd as Beatrix, an elderly lady pixie, shuffled forth with two white robes. Molly slipped hers on gratefully. It was wonderful. The material caressed her bare skin and was as soft as rabbit fur. Sighs of disappointment from the ladies could be heard as Sherlock donned the second robe. "Really!" Molly grumbled to herself as she stood up. Pixie girls must all be hussies, she thought.

"Now back away, back away," Edrin commanded Molly and Sherlock's admirers. "There will be plenty of time to get to know our guests later. Quickly now, it is not safe outside so late in the evening, let us hurry inside before something dreadful happens."

As if on cue, the hooting of a owl could be heard overhead. Edrin ushered Sherlock and Molly quickly to the cave entrance, the others following behind, and lead them down a long, smooth and narrow tunnel lit with torches. The tunnel soon widened out and Molly could see additional tunnels branching off to the left and right. The pixies behind them jostled and shoved each other in their determination to be closest to the guests. Once or twice, Molly heard sharp words and the sounds of bodies tumbling on the floor.

Edrin, paused and shouted. "Enough! You are making enough racket to waken the trolls from their yearly hibernation! Be silent, or there will be a battle, not a feast this night!" Everyone fell silent and looked around as if they had not been involved in the hubbub. "That's better!" said Edrin, as they resumed their trek in almost complete silence.

"Trolls?" Molly asked, "there are trolls about?" Edrin nodded, and indicated a passing entrance to a passageway to his right.

"Some of these tunnels lead to the realms of trolls and goblins," he said solemnly. "But don't worry, it takes a lot to wake a troll from hibernation and the goblins are a lazy lot. There is no need to worry, my lady."

Molly shivered, suddenly wary.

"He is correct, Molly Hooper," Sherlock's deep voice vibrated next to her. Molly glanced over to the tall man walking beside her. It was the first time he had spoken to her since all this craziness had begun.

"I thought trolls were extinct," Molly said. "No one from my village has reported seeing one in several generations."

"It is true, their numbers are greatly diminished. But here in The Deep, they still have a sizable number," Edrin said. "They only bother us during the winter, which is still several weeks away."

"You need not worry about trolls," Sherlock reassured her, "they tend to sleep rather soundly."

"I'm not afraid," Molly said quickly, "just surprised." Molly realized she really wasn't afraid. A fact that both startled and relieved her.

Sherlock glanced down and stared at her a moment, then nodded his approval. "You are an interesting woman, Molly Hooper," he said.

Molly blushed at the comment. She suspected Sherlock did not compliment others easily. It was high praise indeed.

Edrin continued to lead them down through the tunnels, turning first right, then left, then right again, but always down. Molly was sure she would never be able to find her way back to the surface again. She hoped Sherlock had a better sense of direction.

The passageway began to narrow again while the ceiling began to get higher. Soon narrow ledges appeared above them while the tunnel was barely wide enough for three or four to walk abreast. Edrin began to make a soft trilling sound in his throat which was repeated by the pixies behind them. Molly looked up at Sherlock in confusion.

Sherlock pointed to the ledges. "It is a signal," he told Molly, "they are letting the guards know that all is well."

Molly watched the ledges; every now and then she caught a glimpse of armed and armored pixies. Their steely eyes carefully watching Sherlock and herself. These pixies did not smile. They wore helmets and thick leather breastplates; their bows were pulled and their arrows knocked, ready to release in a rain of death. Molly shivered. She was glad of her friendly escort

After a while the ledge disappeared and the passageway began to widen out once more. Then suddenly it opened out onto a wide terrace overlooking a huge cavern. Edrin moved to the side and pixies began hopping and jumping down the small cliff to the floor of the cavern below.

"This is Lilligrotto," Edrin said.

Lilligrotto was like nothing Molly had ever seen before. The ceiling of the massive space was covered with glowing crystals of many colors. The light they produced cast rainbow hues below. Here and there huge stalactites hung from the ceiling while their stalagmite mates reared upwards from the floor. Many of them had connected into beautiful milky white columns. It was all quite unearthly and beautiful beyond her ability to describe. Even Sherlock looked impressed.

Aacrum and Pyrus joined them as well as Twiggy and another pixie girl named Willow. As the crowds behind them dispersed into the cavern, Edrin turned to Aacrum.

"Aacrum, will you and Pyrus see that Lord Sherlock is made comfortable and offered light refreshment? I'm sure he will want to bathe and ready himself for this evenings festivities." With nods and bows the two pixies gathered Sherlock between them and lead him off to the right. "Twiggy, will you and Willow see to Lady Molly's needs?" With that Molly found herself being gently lead to the left. Molly looked over her shoulder, but Sherlock was already out of sight. She gave an irritated sigh. She didn't feel as confident without Sherlock near. She frowned, she was a woman grown, she chided herself. She certainly did not need Sherlock of Holmes to protect her. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, thank you very much! She followed Twiggy with Willow trailing along behind her.

They took a narrow passageway that led down to a small circular cavern. The air was filled with the slightly acrid smell of sulfur. Bubbling in the corner was a pool of warm water.

"Oh, sulfur springs!" Molly exclaimed. "I've heard of these. They are supposed to be very therapeutic." The pixie women helped her with her robe and Molly was soon up to her chin in the deliciously heated water. Twiggy and Willow joined her, and soon all three women were relaxing and feeling the tensions of the day drift away. After soaking for some time, a now very relaxed Molly was lead to rinse under a clear waterfall of fresh water. Donning her robe, she followed Twiggy to a small room containing a single bed, a gilded side chair, dresser and wardrobe. Molly sank down on the feather filled duvet and sighed in contentment.

- ɸ -

In another part of the cave system, Sherlock bathed in the flow of an icy stream. There were no warm sulfur springs in the men's quarters. Only the basic of necessities were provided. Sherlock was not overly bothered by the lack of amenities. He was used to much worse at home. He finished and waded to the bank and picked up the rough towel the men had left him. Stalking over to a small table topped with a mirror he lathered his face and picked up the razor from the stand and began to shave. Soon finished, he turned to pick up the clothing Aacrum and Pyrus had brought. The two pixie men were lounging on a low couch in the corner of the cave. Their whispers and low murmurs were just out of his hearing.

He picked up the white tunic and thrust it over his head. It was a snug fit, much tighter than the loose tops he normally wore, but it was comfortable enough. The next item was completely unfamiliar.

"What is this?" He asked as he held up a length of material in dark blue, green and yellow design.

Aacrum looked up. "It's called a kilt." he said. "You wear it wrapped about your waist." He took the kilt and demonstrated how to put it on. Sherlock frowned slightly then shrugged and donned the strange apparel. He felt a little awkward as the bottom of the material only came down to his knees. There was a long pair of hose to cover his legs almost reaching his knees which made the shortness of the skirt more acceptable. The shoes were a little tight, but the leather was soft and would stretch soon enough. The last item was a short black jacket which was to be worn over the white tunic. Sherlock was pleased to see it contained sleeves and a collar which he immediately turned upward to graze his chin. There was no mirror in the men's quarters but on the whole he felt the outfit was quite acceptable. Sherlock looked at Aacrum and cleared his throat.

"Um, I think you forgot an item of clothing." Sherlock murmured. Where are the pants?"

Aacrum and Pyrus looked at each other and laughed. Sherlock appeared rather put out, which made the pixies laugh even harder, slapping themselves and hooting their glee.

"Real men do not wear pants under their kilt," Pyrus chortled.

"Besides," Aacrum added gasping for air, "they would only get in your way tonight." Sherlock looked at them rather mystified, which sent the pixies into another rolling fit of laughter.

- ɸ -

Molly was so relaxed she almost fell asleep on the downy duvet. Twiggy answered the quiet knock at the door and opened it wide to admit an overburdened Willow who staggered inside carrying at least a dozen dresses in her arms. She was followed by several giggling girls carrying boxes and packages of all sorts and shapes.

Molly was overwhelmed, each gown was more beautiful than the one before. She finally decided on a rather modest looking blue gown with a close fitting heart shaped bodice covered in icy blue crystals. She loved the way it made her feel. The almost sheer skirts falling gracefully layer after layer over her hips and thighs ending in a lovely petal hem about her ankles. There were matching shoes covered in the same crystals as well as long gloves dyed to match in the softest leather. Molly stared at her reflection in the long mirror on the front of the wardrobe. She could hardly recognize herself. She preformed a perfect pirouette en dedans and giggled as she watched the skirts whirl outward then fall gracefully about her legs.

"I feel like a princess!" Molly exclaimed. "Thank you for allowing me to wear such a beautiful gown!"

Willow laughed merrily and guided Molly to sit in the chair now placed behind her facing the mirror. "Sit, my lady. We still must do your hair and you don't want to arrive late to the party!" Molly sat and Willow began to artfully arrange Molly's long tresses into an elaborate upswept style.

"You will certainly bewitch your young man this night," said Twiggy as she looked on with approval. "He won't be able to keep his hands off you."

"He's not my young man!" Molly spluttered with a very red face.

"But you are traveling together," Twiggy frowned, "and I saw the way he treated you after you healed the deer."

"I hardly know him, I only met him a day ago!" Molly exclaimed.

Twiggy looked at her with a thoughtful look. "Are you sure you are not attracted to each other? Sometimes it can happen very quickly."

"I'm sure," Molly said in a sad tone. "Believe me, Sherlock of Holmes has no desire to touch me."

"Well, maybe that will change," Twiggy said in a cheerful tone. "And if that doesn't happen," she added, "there are plenty of other men who will want to choose you for the coupling."

"The what?" Molly asked.

Twiggy looked at her in surprise, humans were so strange. "The coupling," she repeated. She sighed at Molly's look of confusion. "It's when a man and a woman take off their clothes and..."

"I know what coupling is!" Molly said in a panicked voice. "I just don't understand what it has to do with the party tonight."

"Don't human parties end in coupling?" It was Twiggy's turn to look confused.

"No!" Molly said emphatically, then she paused. "Well, maybe for some, but definitely not everyone at the party!"

"That must be sad for the ones left out," Willow whispered.

Molly looked into the mirror at Willow's unhappy reflection. "Well...yes," Molly admitted. "It can be sad, especially if one has feelings that are not returned, but coupling is not everything," Molly said staunchly.

"Oh, Lady Molly, humans are so odd! What else could there be?" Willow giggled, sure that Molly was jesting with her.

"Work, for one thing, or studying, learning new things. Pursuing your interests," Molly said.

Willow's response was to shake her head and giggle some more. "Oh Lady Molly, you are so funny!"

"What do you do with your time Willow?" Molly asked.

"Oh, this and that, I do hair, I fold clothes, I help wait table at feast times."

"But what do you do on your own time? What do you like to do?" Molly asked.

Willow gave her a puzzled frown, then giggled. "Well, I do enjoy the men!"

Men, plural. "How many relationships have you had?" Molly asked before she realized how nosey the question was.

Willow did not seem upset she just gave Molly a saucy look and replied. " Lots and lots! I've had seven babes!"

Seven babies! Willow did not look much older than Molly. Molly knew that not everyone's customs were the same...but seven! She looked at Willow's reflection.

"Willow, I have not seen any children since I came here. Where are they? Will I be able to meet your children at the feast?"

Willow snorted delicately. "Of course not Lady Molly. Children belong in the nursery. They do not join us in the main cavern until their fourteenth year."

"But you visit them? Tell them they are loved?" Molly asked.

"Why would I do that?" Willow asked in a puzzled voice. "Our purpose is to provide for the needs of the men and to have babes. The nursery pixies take care of the needs of the children. Why do you ask such ridiculous questions?"

"Human customs are very different," Molly said mildly, but she was secretly horrified. The women here were little more than harem concubines. "I do as I wish, go where I wish and pursue any occupation that I fancy."

Willow tittered. "Oh my dear, that sounds most unnatural!"

Molly sighed, there was no getting through to her, but Twiggy looked thoughtful.

"To be able to do as one wished would be a great thing. I have always wanted to be a hunter," Twiggy said.

"But that's what you are is it not?" Molly asked in surprise. You were in the woods with Aacrum and Pyrus."

Twiggy snorted in disgust. "Me a hunter? not likely. They allow me to go with them to cook the food and to skin and prepare the meat for transport back to Lilligrotto. I'm not allowed to pick up a weapon unless it is to pack it away. If a girl were to do those things here, she would be made fun of or banished to the nursery to wait on babes," Twiggy scowled. "There is no time to talk about this now, perhaps tomorrow, for now we must concentrate on matters at hand. Willow, that hair style will not do. Take it down."

"Why?" Molly exclaimed. I rather like it. It's fine."

"So sorry My Lady. I thought you were with Lord Sherlock. Only women who are spoken for are allowed to wear their hair so. It will look just as lovely down about your shoulders, and it will let the men know you are available for choosing."

"Molly frowned. "Don't I get a say in the matter? What if I don't want to be chosen or I dislike the one who chooses me?"

"I'm sure you will be happy with the one who chooses you. You are very lovely and a great many men will vie for the right to be yours. If you see one you particularly like it is best if you let him know with a wink and a nod. That way he will have a chance to warn others off during the party and perhaps lessen the number of fights with others who want you. It will increase the odds of him winning your hand. Besides, you don't want him to be so battered he will be of no use!" Willow tittered.

She finished combing Molly's tresses and loosely gathered the hair behind each ear and clipped in hair barrettes which matched the dress. "There My Lady, you look very lovely." Willow stood back and looked at Molly's appearance approvingly.

Molly stared at Willow. "Are you telling me that men are going to fight over me in order to decide who gets to couple with me?" She was appalled.

"Oh yes, My Lady. It's almost the best part of the party! Sometimes there are at least a dozen men that have to go to the infirmary! I once had six men fighting for me!" she crowed. Willow or Twiggy for that matter did not seem the least bit upset by the prospect of a brawl.

"I won't do it," Molly said. "I'm going to stay right here. You go without me. I am not about to allow some man I don't even know to touch me. No! No! No way!"

Twiggy was suddenly before her. She was not smiling. She grimly looked Molly in the eye. "You think to break your oath with the people of Lilligrotto? When you gave us your name you agreed to follow our wishes for a day and a night. You intend to insult us in the very midst of our home?"

Molly looked at the very angry pixie and remembered the steely eyes of the pixie guards in the passageway. This was not good. Not good at all. Molly lowered her head and spoke meekly. "No, Twiggy. I won't defy the oath. You are right. It's just all very unsettling. I'm not used to pixie ways."

It was if Molly had never said a word in disagreement. The pixie girls began to chatter and giggle explaining all the things that would happen during the feast and the party. It sounded like fun. If it wasn't for the coupling thing at the end, Molly would have looked forward to the evenings festivities.

"Come Molly, it's time to go to the main chamber. The party will start soon." Laughing and chattering as fast as their mouths would move, Twiggy and Willow lead a reluctant Molly out into the passageway to join other girls and women as they steadily walked upward to the main cavern.


	8. Pixie Party, part one

Chapter Eight - Pixie Party, Part One

Molly gasped as she entered the main cavern. Changes had occurred since her first brief sight of the space. Long tables covered with snow white linens were arranged around the edge of the open floor. Each table was set with sparkling crystal goblets, golden plates and utensils. One table stood a foot or so higher than the others. Willow explained that was where the pixie queen would sit with her guests of honor.

Servants bustled to and fro, bringing out heaping platters and bowls of all sorts of delicious looking food. The center of the open floor space had been tiled with large squares of thin mica which reflected the glowing crystals on the ceiling. Huge baskets of ferns and flowers hung from the columns. Potted trees and shrubs were scattered about, creating discreet privacy screens. In one corner a cascading waterfall rushed downward to splash rainbows on the rocks below. It was all so beautiful it almost took Molly's breath away.

Everyone was gathering in the open area. Twiggy with Willow beside her began leading Molly about, introducing her. Molly was happy to chatter with the women, but something about how the men were staring at her made her a bit nervous. One or two of them mentioned they were glad her hair was down and how lovely she looked. Drat that love potion! Molly scooted closer to Twiggy and Willow.

There was no sign of Sherlock until Molly heard a flutter of giggles from the women and the crowd parted as Aacrum and Pyrus with Sherlock in their midst walked across the floor to stop in front of Molly. Sherlock was a sight to behold. Being the tallest person there, he towered head and shoulders over everyone. His freshly washed hair had lost the greasy look of Molly's ointment and was back to falling in shiny curls about his head. His black jacket was very similar to his old, much larger cloak except it was short, barely touching his waistline. What was most interesting was the skirt-like material wrapped about his waist. Molly whispered into Twiggy's ear and was told it was called a kilt. Most of the men were wearing them. Apparently it served as formal men's attire. Molly thought it looked splendid on him.

Sherlock bowed his head slightly in Molly's direction. "Hello Molly, you look . ." He paused for a second as if considering her appearance. "You look nice," he finished a little lamely.

Molly smiled, but frowned a little inside. She knew she looked much better than _'nice'_. The man evidently wasn't attracted to her at all.

"Thank you, Sherlock. You look very handsome yourself," she returned.

Sherlock nodded his thanks. "Your hair is down," he said rather soberly, "you should have told them you were with me. We could have protected each other. Think it through the next time." He paused and gazed at her intently. "Unless of course you are fine with how the evening's festivities will end?"

" N-n-no, of course not!" Molly stammered. "Um, I'm afraid I wasn't aware of what was going on until it was too late."

Sherlock leaned close to her ear, but careful not to touch her. "Pretend to be attracted to me, and I will do the same to you. Perhaps it will help to distract some of your suitors. Although, I think I will still have to persuade several of them by stronger means."

"You would do this for me?" Molly asked in a surprised whisper.

"Yes," he murmured back, "plus, you will be helping me. As lovely as these ladies are, I have no desire to carouse the night away with any of them. Now bat your eyes and act as if you are enjoying my company," he imperiously demanded.

"Oh...okay." Molly smiled weakly and batted her eyes several times.

"Is that the best you can do?" He growled. "You look like you think I'm going to eat you for dinner."

" Well, you're not much better." Molly snorted. _"You look __**nice**__ Molly,_" she mimicked his greeting, emphasizing the word nice so it sounded as if he were bored.

Sherlock held out his arm to Molly. As she grasped his elbow with a gloved hand he smiled wickedly at her and murmured loud enough for the surrounding pixies to overhear. "Come my beauty, the night is young; let us enjoy the party fully instead of grumbling that you will have to share me with the others."

Molly glared at him briefly before she relaxed into her role. He wanted her to pretend how much she was attracted to him? Well she would show him that she was better at it than he.

"Oh Sherlock," she sighed, "I love it when you become all masterful with me. How can I argue with you when you are so commanding?" Molly batted her eyes and stared up adoringly as they moved off into the crowd. "Will you dance with me this night and promise to hold me close?"

For some reason Sherlock looked a little surprised. Molly watched as he swallowed. "It would be my honor my dear lady and I will be glad to hold you as close as you will permit," he said as he looked intently into her eyes.

It was Molly's turn to swallow. His words sounded so sincere and his look was so ardent she almost melted on the spot. It took her a moment before she laughed in delight and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"We seem to be drawing quite a bit of attention," Sherlock said a little dryly.

Molly lifted her head and glanced about. Sure enough at least a dozen men were glaring at Sherlock with their fists clenched.

"Oh dear! I'm so sorry," Molly said.

"Think nothing of it my dear," Sherlock said loud enough for the agitated men to hear. "It will be a privilege to fight for the right to be with you."

"Oh my lord," Molly sighed in rapture, "You are so brave! How can I but want to be with you this night with all my heart!" There, Molly thought, that will tell the pixy men whom she preferred. It didn't seem to help though. If anything the men became more agitated.

Molly was about to comment on that fact when a silvery trumpet note pealed out. The crowd turned as one and faced the raised table as the curtains behind it were drawn back.

"Behold, Queen Irgraine, holder of the golden scepter approaches!" A loud clear voice announced as the most beautiful woman Molly had ever seen stepped forward. All the pixies including Sherlock and Molly bowed and curtsied respectively before her. Once the queen was seated, everyone stood and quietly went to be seated at the long tables as well. Pyrus lead Molly and Sherlock forward to be introduced to the Queen.

"Your majesty, may I present Lord Sherlock of Holmes and Lady Molly Hooper. Sherlock bowed again while Molly sank into a deep curtsey.

"It has been some time since we have entertained anyone from the land of Holmes," the queen said with a smile. "Arise, Lord Sherlock and Lady Molly, be seated and make yourselves comfortable. Lord Sherlock, are you acquainted with a noble from your land by the name of Mycroft?"

Sherlock, who was in the process of settling into his chair, stilled then said; "Indeed your highness, Mycroft is my brother, King of Holmes."

"How splendid!" the Queen laughed, "It has been some time since I made his acquaintance! T'is most pleasant that the intervening years have blessed his ambitions thus. He was always one who had his eye for the main chance. He was a good friend and an excellent lover."

Sherlock cleared his throat. Molly could tell his surprise by the tense way he held his shoulders.

"If I may ask, your majesty, how old was my brother when you last saw him?"

The queen looked at him curiously but answered readily enough.

"Let me see," she said as she looked at Sherlock. "He was probably near your age, perhaps a few years older."

Sherlock looked puzzled for a moment then a look of realization covered his expressive face.

"Forgive me your Highness, I fear I have misspoke. You must be referring to my great, great-uncle. He was named Mycroft as well. My brother in fact was named for him. I was fortunate to have met him once as a child. He was very old and passed away before I could get to know him well."

Molly frowned, "But Sherlock, how could that be? The queen is young. She is not old enough to possibly have met a man your age who has since died of old age!" Molly suddenly realized that she had interrupted the conversation between Sherlock and the queen. "Forgive me your Highness, I am so sorry to interrupt."

"It is quite alright lovely Molly. I tend to forget how short human lives are. Barely longer than some of the beasts of the forest." She sounded sad. He was such a wonderful man; I hope his stay with us extended his lifetime a little. Visiting pixies sometimes has that result."

How old was this queen? Molly asked herself. She did not appear much older than Sherlock and herself. Evidently pixies aged differently than humans. It shed a new light on Willow and her seven babes. Molly directed her attention back to the conversation between Sherlock and Queen Irgraine.

"Indeed, I believe you may be correct your majesty." Sherlock was saying. "He was extremely old when I met him. He was older than anyone who has lived in Holmes, well past a normal lifespan. He did not become king, but he was a renowned scholar and sorcerer of elfin magic. He was much respected by our people."

"I shall light a candle in the chamber of the ancestors and mourn his passing," the queen told Sherlock as she squeezed his hand. Then she did a most curious thing. Holding her right hand so the fingers were held together in an upright position with her thumb held out at a ninety degree angle she passed her hand over Sherlock in a scanning motion.

"Yes, I thought so," she said with a smile. "You have his talents. You must be a very powerful wizard indeed."

Sherlock smiled. "I am not a wizard your majesty. Forgive me, but I am but a humble apprentice to the Sorcerer Sooran." Hearing Molly's dismayed gasp, Sherlock turned and frowned at her.

"Relax, Molly. I do not study black magic. The Sorcerers of Holmes practice only the highest quality of white magic."

He turned back to the queen. "Please forgive her your majesty. She is not from Holmes. We have only recently met and she is not familiar with the ways of white magic or the customs of Holmes."

The queen leaned across Sherlock and did the scanning motion with her hand over Molly.

"She possesses talents which are different, but equally as strong as yours," The Queen said.

Molly squeaked. "I am but a purveyor of herbs and medicines your Majesty."

"And yet you were able to heal the hind when even Aacrum had doubts of its survival. We have been watching you, young Molly. Even before you chose to come to us into the Deep. Your talents have not gone unnoticed. How is it that you were able to heal so many of the sleeping sickness?"

Molly squirmed uncomfortably, "I used simple herbal medicines, your highness, and I do not deal in black magic!"

All this was true, but Molly struggled to hold tight to the one thing she must never reveal. Molly had been cautioned by her mother from whom she received her talents to be wary of how she displayed her gift. She had lived in fear that the village people would accuse her of black magic. She had always taken care to heal using the cover of herbal remedies. That her herbs worked fast and well was the source of her reputation. If the villagers had known of her additional powers she would have been declared a witch and burned at the stake within the hour.

"Molly looked into the queens beautiful face."I only use the gift for healing your Majesty. I do no harm. Please do not punish me.

"You are safe with us young Molly. When I scanned you, I found only goodness in your heart. You are even more pure than your companion and he is good beyond any I have seen since his forbearer Mycroft."

"I would not go so far as to say I am good, your Majesty," Sherlock grumbled uncomfortably.

"Well, I meant that as a relative term," the queen laughed. "You are a man, and it is difficult for a man to be good."

If anything, Sherlock looked even more put out.

"I am keeping you from the feast! Please eat and enjoy!' The queen smiled, then turned to speak with those seated to her left. Molly and Sherlock were left to watch as a server sliced thin strips of roasted meat from a large animal Molly was quite unfamiliar with.

"Um, what kind of meat is that?" Molly timidly asked the server.

"Squirrel, my lady. Freshly caught and roasted with the special herbs her majesty enjoys."

"Oh, I like squirrel!" Molly beamed. She had forgotten about being shrunk to the size of the pixies. It was amazing how different the squirrel appeared in her present size. She gratefully accepted two slices of the meat as well as generous helpings of root vegetables and salad greens which included several different flowers. Her plate looked beautiful and mouth watering. She dug in with enthusiasm.

"This is delicious!" she exclaimed.

Sherlock picked up the small vessel containing seasoning for the greens and started to pour some on his salad when Molly's gloved had reached over and stopped him.

"It contains honey," she said.

Sherlock gave her a grateful look and set the container down. Eldrin who was seated on the other side of Sherlock gave him a curious look.

"You are not fond of honey, Lord Sherlock?" The mage inquired.

"I am allergic to it elder," Sherlock answered reluctantly. "It causes me to break out in hives."

Eldrin's eyes grew wide. He looked from Molly to Sherlock then back to Molly again.

"Even supposing that you were not aware of the fact that wizards are not susceptible to love potions, why did you use one that contains honey? It's obvious you two are meant for each other. Why would you do such a thing?"

"It, it happened before I met him, and it was an accident!" Molly wailed.

Drat that command of having to do everything the pixies wanted for a day and a half. She found herself blurting out all her secrets. Soon everyone in the cavern was aware of the fact that Molly Hooper had love potion spilled on her and that Sherlock of Holmes was allergic to the honey it contained. To Molly's and Sherlock's discomfort everyone broke out in fits of giggles and laughter that soon had them rolling in the floor and under the tables. Even Queen Irgraine was amused and intrigued.

"You have never touched?" she asked gently.

"Once." Molly admitted reluctantly. His head blew up to the size of a pig's bladder." That caused an additional fit of laughter and giggles from the crowd. As well as mischievous demands that Molly touch Sherlock. Molly reluctantly grasped his hand causing his fingers to swell and bloat. It seemed there was no end to the merriment this caused. There were hoots of laughter and suggestions of other body parts Molly should touch. Things were definitely getting out of hand.

Sherlock stoically was silent until Eldrin cleared his throat. "Well, this has been fun." He mumbled a few words under his breath as he held his hand over Sherlock's swollen hand. The swelling quickly began to disappear. "It's a shame wizards cannot work magic on themselves. Unless you find another wizard who is willing to travel with you, I'm afraid you two are doomed. Your plight has been the most entertaining story we've heard in a long time. It will provide much merriment in its retelling for years! I suppose I must now take pity on you and repay you for such a delightful tale."

Eldrin bent under the table and retrieved his black pouch. He rooted around inside it for several moments mumbling to himself, looking at objects keeping some while throwing others back into the pack. After a while he had everything he needed. He stood on the dinning table ignoring the plates and utensils, causing a crystal goblet of mushroom wine to teeter dangerously until it was rescued by a servant.

"Stand up, young Sherlock," The old man commanded.

Sherlock stood. Molly could not tell if the scowl on his face was because he was obliged to do as the elf asked or if he resented being called young.

"There is no cure for honey allergies," Sherlock told the mage. "Sooran told me that himself, and he is never wrong."

" And you believed him? I told you it is difficult for men to be entirely good." Irgraine laughed. "Sooran told you what he wanted you to believe."

"Many mages hold certain truths from their apprentices in order to keep them under control," Eldrin smiled. "Doubtless, he had his reasons to use your allergy to his advantage." The look on Sherlock's face confirmed his suspicions. "Now close your eyes and think happy thoughts!" Eldrin leaned over and whispered to Molly, "I've always wanted to say that!"

Molly giggled, causing Sherlock to frown.

"Keep those eyes shut!" ordered Eldrin as he circled Sherlock's head with his wand and muttered a spell as he blew a green vapor over Sherlock. Then the mage picked up a curious purple stone and hit Sherlock squarely between the eyes causing him to collapse to the floor.

"Oh my!" Molly cried out and immediately knelt beside her fallen comrade. "Was it necessary to hit him so hard?" She looked up at the old man and was surprised to see a look of glee on his face.

"Of course not, my dear! The rock wasn't part of the spell at all. I just feel it is necessary to keep these young whippersnappers in their place. You don't want him to get all snooty and overbearing do you? I just knocked some sense into him for you. You can thank me later," Eldrin laughed.

"Oh Sherlock!" Molly said as he groaned and sat up rubbing his forehead. "Here, let me help." Molly placed a gloved hand on the sizable lump that was growing between Sherlock's eyes. As she gently touched the bump it began to shrink smaller and soon disappeared along with the headache that had been forming.

"That's simply amazing," Eldrin said with a note of awe in his voice. "You did that wearing gloves! You shouldn't have been able to anything with gloves on. If I were two hundred years younger, I would marry you myself." He looked at Sherlock sternly. "Make sure you treat this one with respect. You don't deserve her. Now stand up, stand up."

Sherlock stood, a little shaky on his feet.

"Go ahead," Eldrin said rather impatiently, "your allergies are gone. Touch her."

Sherlock held out a hand and touched Molly's face. He pulled his hand back and looked at it. Nothing happened, no swelling appeared. Sherlock smiled and pulled Molly to her feet so that she was facing him. He took both hands and touched her face and neck. Nothing happened.

"There I told you, you are cured." Eldrin smiled. "Go ahead lad, kiss her. And do a good job of it or I will be tempted to show you how!"

Sherlock smiled down at Molly and tilted her chin so his mouth had a better angle and lowered his lips to hers.

Molly frantically tried to remind herself that he was only kissing her because a pixie had ordered him to, but soon lost herself in the kiss of a lifetime. Not that she had much experience in kissing, none at all really, but this kiss...this kiss was...magnificent. Molly was lost, she was floating, she was dying, she was...

"Ok, enough now. You can come up for air," Eldrin's voice was filled with humor.

Sherlock broke the kiss and they just stared at each other until they both heard the thunderous claps and table thumping about them. Molly turned red as a beet. Sherlock faced the assembly of pixies and took a deep bow. That caused another round of approval from the witnesses.

"Enough, enough!" Eldrin shouted over the noise. "Let us continue our feast and not neglect the spirits. I propose a toast!" Eldrin held up his crystal goblet of mushroom wine. "To Lord Sherlock and Lady Molly! May they enjoy this night and remember it fondly for the rest of their lives!"

"To Lord Sherlock and Lady Molly!" The crowd echoed and bell-like sounds of crystal goblets clanging together around the cavern filled the air.

Molly and Sherlock settled down in front of their plates as everyone seated themselves and continued the feast. Entertainers came to the middle of the room. There were acrobats and tumblers. High rope walkers and jugglers. Bear tamers and sword fighting. Molly soon forgot to be shy and began to watch. She especially loved the acrobats. The young girls seemed to fly in the air as their bodies gracefully arched upward then descended rapidly to be caught in the sturdy arms of the men. They made it look so easy.

Molly glanced over at Sherlock shyly. He was busy talking to Eldrin and vigorously waving his hands about while discussing the best way to cast a warg removal spell. Molly idly wondered what a warg was and decided she didn't want to know. It sounded disgusting.

"You must not hold it against him my dear," the Queen said to Molly. "Men are just not as romantic as women. You will be able to get his attention later this night. Let him have some time with Eldrin."

"Oh, I don't mind." Molly said truthfully. "It's just all a little much. I'm not used to this at all."

"I suspect you will grow more comfortable as the night progresses my dear. For now just sit back and relax."

- ɸ -

A silvery note from the horn announced that dinner was over. The entertainers disappeared behind curtains and small round tables floated out and settled on the mica floor. Molly noticed Eldrin grinning at Sherlock as they both stood facing the tables, wands in hand. It was the first time she had seen Sherlock openly using his magical powers. Molly was not sure she liked it, but she smiled back as Sherlock looked down at her. Surely he wasn't seeking her approval?

Eldrin announced in his rich booming voice. "Come, come everyone. While the servants are clearing away the remains of our feast. Let us gather our chairs and begin the party game portion of our celebration. Quickly now, find a partner and seat yourselves, no more than four couples to a table."

There was a mad rush of feet in Molly's direction, but Sherlock held out his arm and Molly took it, moving gracefully to the seating area. She didn't see the looks of frustration on the faces of the men behind her. As they arrived at their table, Molly noticed they had forgotten to bring their chairs. She turned to mention it to Sherlock and noticed two golden chairs hovering in the air behind them.

"I should have realized you wouldn't forget the chairs," Molly said in a low voice.

Sherlock smirked and said, "May I assist you with your seat my Lady?"

They sat and were soon joined by three other couples. Molly was pleased to see that Twiggy, accompanied by a rather stout balding pixy, was one of the people at her table. Servants were carrying large boxes, stopping to place something bowl shaped in the center of each table.

Eldrin clapped his hands and the noise calmed a bit. At least Molly could hear him as he began his announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen. It is now time to begin. Our first game will be Spin the Turtle!"


	9. Chapter 9 - Pixie Party With a Twist

Chapter Nine - The Pixie Party Continues with a Twist

As couples seated themselves around the small tables, Molly could feel Sherlock's thigh pressing against hers on one side and a pixie man's leg against hers on the other side. She found it uncomfortable and felt a flush of heat on her face as Sherlock shifted against her more firmly as he attempted to get comfortable. Servants continued to place the bowl-shaped objects on the tables. Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise as a tortoise was placed upside down in the center of the table where she was seated. With its head and tail protruding out of opposite ends it proceeded to wave its short stubby legs about rather merrily. She was used to seeing tortoises in the woods when she went foraging, however the one in front of her was exceedingly large. She then realized it was because she had shrunk to pixie size. The chelonian's body wobbled slightly with the waving of its sturdy legs. Bright orangish-brown eyes peered curiously about. Molly wasn't sure, but she thought the creature winked as it fixed its brilliant eyes on her.

Back at the queen's table Eldrin tapped lightly on a crystal goblet. The room hushed and he began to speak. "It is now time to start our first game," the elderly mage grinned merrily. He shook his finger warningly. "I must remind the gentlemen to abide by the rules of the game. No cheating is allowed."

Several ladies tittered. Molly looked at Sherlock, but he simply shook his head. Evidently he didn't know what was going on either.

"For the sake of our honored guests and for those of you who have very short memories. I will now go over the rules," Eldrin continued. "We will start with the lady seated in first position, indicated by a gold star." As he spoke the words, a gold star suddenly appeared in front of a lady at each table. Molly was relieved to see the star appear in front of Twiggy. "The lady will kindly spin the turtle about and when it stops, the game will proceed according to the following situations."

"If the turtle's head is pointing to a gentleman, the two must kiss." All of the pixie men grunted their approval at this. "Gentlemen," he continued, "it is very important that you do your best. The turtle will judge the quality of your smooch. If it is good, the turtle's head will remain outside its body. If it hides its head, you must forfeit your place at the table and be replaced by one of the men waiting in line. Needless to say, you will also lose your partner and must struggle as best you can to win her back before the evening is over. Play will continue with the position last pointed as starting the next play. Does everyone understand?"

All the men nodded. Molly looked at Sherlock, he didn't appear worried. She hoped he would be able to remain her partner. She didn't fancy any of the other men about the table or in the line of extras waiting for a chance to play. Besides, Sherlock had indicated that, if they were paired, there would be no coupling. Molly fervently hoped Sherlock would end up her partner. She really had no plans for such shenanigans tonight.

Edrin nodded and continued. "If the turtle's head points to another lady, the two ladies will exchange places at the table. Ladies, that means you will have a new partner. Do you understand?" The ladies giggled and nodded. Molly was horrified. This was terrible, she could end up with anyone! She looked at Sherlock who only shrugged his shoulders in a fatalistic manner. It didn't seem to bother him at all.

"The same will apply if two men are paired. The game will continue until the sounding of the horns. Is everyone ready?" Everyone murmured their agreement and he concluded by shouting, "Begin!"

As the pixie women prepared to begin the game, Eldrin moved closer to Molly's table and started watching avidly.

In the corner of the room, the pixie orchestra began to play. Twiggy stood up and grasping the turtle by one sturdy leg, spun it as hard as she was able. Around and around the tortoise twirled, finally slowing and stopping with its head pointing directly at Sherlock!

Twiggy and Sherlock stood and leaned across the small table. Their kiss was not a prolonged one. Sherlock stood back up and glanced at the turtle. Molly watched the terrapin as it made up its mind. She was astonished to see ii roll its eyes and shake its head. The head remained out however.

"Careful, Sherlock!" Eldrin laughed. "That was close! If you continue to do so poorly you will soon be out of the game!"

Sherlock pouted his lips, but said nothing. The game continued. It was now his turn to spin the turtle. Sherlock leaned over the table and sent it spinning wildly about. When the turtle stopped it was pointing to the overweight pixie sitting next to Twiggy. The two men exchanged places. The rotund man gave Molly's leg a friendly squeeze as he sat down beside her. Molly closed her eyes and made a small groaning sound as Sherlock seated himself across the table. Sherlock gazed at the turtle and didn't look Molly's way.

It was now the fat pixie's turn to spin. Molly watched as the turtle spun round and round and ended pointing at Twiggy. Twiggy giggled and the two kissed. Evidently the poor man was found wanting as the turtle not only retracted its head but legs as well. He was replaced and grudgingly went to the back of the line of waiting men. Molly's new partner was old enough to be her grandfather!

The game continued amid laughter, giggles and several spectacular snogs. Sherlock was narrowly missed several times. Molly found herself kissing and being kissed or exchanging seats with the other women at her table. Soon she had kissed all the men and several replacement men except for Sherlock. For some reason the turtle always seemed to miss him when it spun. She found herself wishing that the turtle would point at Sherlock and herself.

"Molly get a grip!" she scolded herself, "Sherlock does not want to kiss you. He probably only wants to get this silly game over as quickly as possible."

Molly watched as Sherlock once more gave the turtle a spin. It came slowly to a stop pointing at the girl to Molly's left. Oh dear! Molly hoped Sherlock did a better job kissing this time or she was going to lose him. Molly gave Sherlock a nudge under the table and whispered fiercely in a low tone, "Put some effort into it this time!" Sherlock looked down at her in surprise then one corner of his mouth jerked up briefly and nodding his head he kissed the lady in question very soundly. Everyone hooted as the lady sank to her chair and began to fan herself rather vigorously. The turtle bobbed its head and waved its legs about in glee. Sherlock sat and turned to Molly with a large smirk.

"Was that to your satisfaction M'lady?" he grinned.

Molly sniffed. "It was certainly better than your other efforts. I expect you will get better with practice."

Sherlock frowned, looked down at the turtle, then back at Molly. He didn't say anything, but Molly could tell he was plotting something.

The play continued. Some of the men were replaced but somehow Sherlock managed to remain in the game and soon it was Molly's spin again. Sherlock was seated beside a pixie woman with a rather large nose. The turtle spun and stopped pointing at the lady with the overly large proboscis. Then a curious thing happened, the turtle started wobbling and turned a bit more, stopping with its head pointed at Sherlock! What on earth was going on? Molly stood up slowly. She looked up at Sherlock of Holmes who was now standing as well. He definitely had a smirk firmly in place on his lips. Molly raised her eyebrows at him, but he just stared down at her as if they had all the time in the world. Had he just nudged that turtle with magic? The turtle gazed at her innocently. Surely if Sherlock had cheated, someone would be making a ruckus about it. Molly told herself it was just a kiss, just a kiss like all the others she had received tonight. It was just a game. It wasn't important. She told herself these things, but her heart still sped up as she leaned across the table into Sherlock's space.

Their lips touched...

For one moment...

Time stood still.

All was swept away into nothingness.

No sound.

No thought.

Nothing except Sherlock of Holmes and Molly Hooper.

Together.

Needing nothing...

Except each other.

Molly drew in a ragged breath as their lips parted and Sherlock rested his forehead against hers. "Who are you, Sherlock of Holmes?" she whispered.

"What are you, Molly Hooper?" he hoarsely questioned,

They stood together, not hearing the cheers and claps of the other game players at their table. Staring into each other's eyes they felt a connection form. Unasked for, it strengthened and grew. Molly's eyes widened and Sherlock jumped back and stared wildly.

"No! No, no, no!" he roared.

"What?" Molly asked frantically, not understanding.

Sherlock pointed at her and snarled.

"Stay away from me. I want nothing to do with your kind!"

Molly looked at him in bewilderment. "Sherlock, wha..?"

Sherlock backed away from her. The anger in his face frightened Molly. She didn't understand. What had happened? What was going on? She leaned forward over the table, arms outstretched in a pleading motion.

"Sherlock. What is...?" Molly's question was suddenly overwhelmed by a loud shrieking alarm. The high keening whistle could be heard echoing from the entryway tunnel to the cavern. Men all about the cavern suddenly shouted in anger and rushed to the drapery lined walls of the cavern. They yanked curtains aside to access weapons which were stored there attached by large hooks. Molly realized with a blink that Sherlock was with the rest of the men lining up to face the entrance to the cavern.

"What is it?" Molly shouted to Eldrin as she hurried over to grab a quarterstaff attached to the wall nearest her.

Eldrin looked at her in a harassed manner.

"Lady Molly, you should not be here! Go quickly and stand with the rest of the women at the back of the cavern! This is men's work!"

Molly planted her feet in front of Eldrin. "What is this Eldrin? If it is a battle, why can I not fight as well?"

Molly suddenly heard a sharp intake of breath from the waiting pixies. Out of the tunnel mouth flew dozens of enormous black creatures with large wingspans. Seated on the backs of the flying monstrosities were the ugliest, greenish-colored men Molly had ever seen.

"Bous!" Eldrin shouted frantically, "leave and hide with the rest of the women!"

Molly looked at him in confusion.

"Booze?" she asked.

" Yes, Bous! Bats Of Unusual Size!" Eldrin screamed at her. Molly realized that indeed the creatures did appear to be very large bats.

"It's a goblin raid! They seek to capture women! Run, girl, before you are taken. Go to the back of the cavern and leave the fighting to the men!"

Molly reluctantly moved back. She could see the men viciously fighting with the horde of goblins swooping about overhead. Soon goblin foot soldiers came pouring into the cave overwhelming the pixies by their sheer number. Molly hurried to the women huddled at the back of the cavern.

"Why are you just standing there?" she questioned angrily. "Pick up something to use as a weapon! It won't be long before the men won't able to hold them back." As the words left her mouth a shrill scream came to her left. One of the bous soared down from the ceiling and swooped near a pixie girl. The goblin on its back leaned out of his leather saddle, grabbed the unfortunate girl and started to drag her up in front of him. Molly gave an angry snarl and rushed forward. Using her quarterstaff as a long cudgel, she swung into the large Chiropteran causing it to pitch enough to make the goblin still holding the pixie girl to fall with a thud to the floor. Molly rushed forward, pulled the girl to safety and clubbed the goblin senseless as the bous took to the air and fluttered away.

Molly glared angrily at the women cowering before her. "Pick up a weapon and defend yourselves!" she shouted. Most of the women cowered away from her, obviously more frightened of her attitude than they were of the enemy.

"I swear, I'll beat you up myself! Now pick up a weapon and protect each other!" She screamed.

These women were practically useless, they deserved being caught. Molly turned and began to launch herself into the approaching goblins mounted on bous. From the corner of her eye she noticed Twiggy and several other women grab long poles and begin to jab at the swooping creatures. Other women rushed up to club downed riders and to tie them up with vines. It was better than nothing, but many of the women still cowered in the corner, refusing to help in any way. Molly soon became too busy fighting to pay attention to what the others were doing. Once, she felt a tug of claw-like fingers grasping at her shoulders only to be quickly released as Twiggy hit the offending goblin over the head with a golden trencher. Molly shouted her thanks and Twiggy grinned happily as she bashed another goblin to the floor.

After a while, Molly realized that more and more women were joining the struggle. Slowly the women advanced until the bous were no longer approaching them, but swooping down to gather wounded goblins before flying away. They were in retreat!

As the fighting ceased, Molly frantically scanned about for signs of Sherlock. She finally spotted him standing at the side of the Queen and Eldrin. All three were staring at her. Molly suddenly felt uncomfortable. She didn't know what was going on in Sherlock's mind. He continued to stare at her grimly. The queen and Eldrin looked thoughtful.

The women who had fought with Molly gathered around her. Most were giddy with excitement and relief.

"We did it, Lady Molly!" A thin red haired girl sang out. "Three cheers for Lady Molly!"

Hurrah!

Hurrah!

Hurrah!

"No," Molly told them gently, "you helped yourselves. Now how many women were captured?"

Twiggy glanced about counting.

"Fifteen, M'lady!" she announced excitedly. "Usually they capture at least half of us! It's a great day for Lilligrotto!"

"Fifteen!" Molly groaned in disappointment. "We must advance an attack as soon as possible!" she announced. "We need to get those girls back!"

Everyone looked at Molly as if she were announcing they must fly to the moon.

Twiggy came up and put her arm about Molly.

"I am sorry, Molly Hooper, but that is not possible. It is too late, by this time they have been changed."

Twiggy gently lead Molly over to a woman who was tied up and struggling with her bindings. Molly recognized her as Willow. Willow who had seven babes and loved men. Now the girl snarled and struggled to free herself. She no longer looked like the lovely woman Molly knew. Her body was rapidly changing. Growing more stooped, her skin began turning greenish and her teeth grew fangs which protruded from her once plump lips.

"What's happening to her?" Molly asked in horror.

Eldrin appeared to stand beside Molly. He looked at her sadly and shook his head.

"She is turning into a goblin. She has been bitten and is now infected. There is no cure. Goblin transformations are permanent. We managed to capture her and hope to find a cure for the infection someday by studying samples of her blood and other fluids, but it is too late for her." Eldrin shook his head and squeezed her arm gently.

"The others?" Molly asked.

"Goblins always bite their captives as soon as they can. It makes them easier to handle and assures that there will be no rescue raids. It is too late. I am sorry."

"Please, let me try," Molly begged.

At first Eldrin refused, but once he realized she was determined, he reluctantly gave his permission. He motioned several stout fellows to hold her friend down so that Molly could approach her.

Molly placed her hands on Willow. The girl went quiet, and then suddenly began to jerk and snarl viciously. Molly closed her eyes. She began to hum softly and move her hands gently up and down Willow's arms. Willow became more agitated. She began to kick and strain against her captors. Molly placed her hand against Willow's forehead for a few seconds, but pulled her hand away with a sharp hiss.

"There is nothing of who she used to be left for me to find." Molly cried in deep anguish. "There is nothing left to heal."

Eldrin hugged her. "I am sorry. I would have spared you this pain if I could."

"There is nothing worse than a healer who can not heal," Molly sobbed. "What will happen to her?"

"After we have collected our samples, we will release her near the entrance to goblin lands. They will take her in. Perhaps she will find some measure of comfort among her own kind. She is no longer Pixie.

"What about the men injured in battle?" Molly asked. Hardly a man did not at least have a scratch or two. "Won't they turn into goblins too?"

"No, it is a thing that is transferred between goblin men and pixie women. Our men will be slow to heal, but they will not become infected or turn into Goblins. Do you now understand how hard it was for the women to pick up arms and follow your lead? They risked their lives to follow you."

"But in doing so, they saved many more women from a goblin fate!" Molly said. She looked about at the women standing around her. Most of them nodded their heads in agreement.

Twiggy stepped forward. "Eldrin, the women have talked and we have decided that for most of us, we prefer to fight even though we run the risk of being infected. To stand by and do nothing is no longer acceptable."

Eldrin gazed at the women solemnly and then stared at Molly. At last he shrugged his shoulders.

"You bring change, Molly Hooper. I wonder if you realize just how much power you wield." Eldrin looked at the small group of determined women.

"So be it. Any woman who wishes to train in the fighting arts may report to the Master of Arms tomorrow after morning meal."

Molly walked slowly over to where the Queen and Sherlock stood quietly talking. Molly saw Sherlock repeatedly shake his head. The Queen's voice was a low murmur. Molly could not tell what they were talking about, but as she approached, Sherlock looked at Molly and she thought that if looks could kill, she would have been dead and buried for over a week.

"If you still wish to travel with me, be ready at first light," he growled and stalked off toward the men's apartments.


	10. Chapter 10 - Change

A/N _This chapter is for the lovely Johnsarmylady, Dragonaunt and several others of Mrs. Hudson's Kitchen forum who challenged me to write a feminist story involving Sherlock. After much thought I decided to work the challenge into The Sorcerer's Apprentice, as it was leaning that way already. Enjoy!___

Chapter Ten - Change

Molly was exhausted and discouraged. She made her way down the narrow passageway to her room. Closing the door quietly, she crossed the small space to the narrow bed. On top of the beautiful embroidered duvet were the lovely combs and sparkling hairpins Willow had used to work Molly's original upswept hairdo. Molly carefully picked up the elaborate comb that formed a tiara when positioned on the head. She stroked the bauble gently, remembering Willow's gay laughter and silly stories as the woman had worked arranging Molly's hair. Willow, who thought only of parties, fun and making men happy. Willow who had seven babes and wanted more. Willow, so alive, so joyous. She was gone forever.

Tears streaked down Molly's face and plopped heavily onto the jeweled hair ornament in her hands. Fifteen women had been lost tonight, as well as seven men. Molly was saddened by their deaths and captures, but only Willow had been known to her. Her thoughts and emotions centered on Willow and it was for Willow she mourned.

There was a quiet knock at the door and Twiggy entered.

"Oh Lady Molly! Please do not cry. It distresses me to see you weep so." Twiggy sat on the bed beside Molly and put a comforting arm about her.

Molly put her head down on Twiggy's shoulder and continued to sob.

"I couldn't save her. I tried, but she was gone."

Twiggy hugged Molly closer and patted her back gently.

"I know you tried, Lady Molly. But it was too late. The infection works almost instantaneously. If it helps, she did not suffer long. It is the price we must pay for living so close to goblin territory.

"Why?" Molly asked tearfully. "Why do they raid the pixies for women?"

Twiggy sighed. "Long ago, there were no goblins. Only pixies, elves and faeries. Then something happened to some of the pixie men. It was a new disease and it changed them completely. They grew antisocial, refused help and became increasingly aggressive. They moved away and would not associate with non-infected pixies. Over time there were physical changes. Their bodies became twisted and heavily muscled. The skin turned green, fingers became claw-like and they became incapable of speech other than a few grunts and growls. Their women changed also. Worst of all were the fangs which the goblin men used to infect pixie women and change them. Then, it developed that only male children were being born. It became necessary for the goblins to raid other uninfected groups for women. Without the raids, the goblins would have died off. It became the way they learned to survive." Twiggy sat quietly, staring sadly off into space.

The two women sat together for some time. Twiggy silently comforting the distraught Molly. After a while, as Molly's tears slowed and her sobs became less frequent, Twiggy began to talk of the wonders to be found in the forest outside Lilligrotto. She spoke of the beautiful waterfall that cascaded over the worn rocks at the end of the valley, of the tall leafy trees which provided homes for the squirrels and other gentle creatures that inhabited the forest. She talked about the wonders of spring and the joys of summer.

"It is not all bad, Lady Molly. There are many things that make us happy and we are truly blessed. We try to think on those things when sadness comes, it makes it more bearable. Willow would not want you to grieve. Her life was filled with love and laughter. She would want you to remember her that way."

"Do you think you will ever find a cure for the venom of the bites?" Molly asked quietly.

"Oh, my dear, that is why I came to you." Twiggy sat up and looked at Molly. "I bring a message from Lord Sherlock. He has been asked to stay on for a short time and assist Elder Eldrin in the search for a solution. Lord Sherlock asked me to ask if you would agree to stay a while longer with us in order to accomplish this.?" Twiggy looked hopefully at Molly.

"Of course we will stay." Molly agreed. She wondered to herself if Sherlock would have left if she had wanted to go. It wasn't important, Molly decided. She wanted to stay, especially if it meant perhaps some progress in finding a cure for the horrible disease.

"Thank you Lady Molly!" Twiggy gave her a quick hug and stood up. I must hurry back and deliver your answer. She turned to leave then suddenly looked back to Molly.

"Lady Molly, a group of the women are beginning arms training tomorrow. We would be delighted if you would consider accompanying us?"

"I would like that," Molly smiled. The two friends hugged and Twiggy left to deliver her message. Molly crawled beneath the covers and stared at the ceiling. So much had happened tonight; the feast, followed by the strange party, the wondrous kiss, then the terrible way Sherlock had rejected her, the goblin battle that followed, the loss of good men and women. Molly mulled over these things and did not expect to sleep. After a while however, she drifted off and slept dreamlessly until the morning.

ɸ

"Watch your opponent carefully. Mirror her movements." Molly said as she circled two women working with quarterstaffs. The knocking and clicking of sticks were somewhat deafening as she watched the large group of women paired off and practicing.

"Elbow up, Shareth! Guard your face! Good, good, now you have it." She shouted. In the two weeks or so of practice, there had been much accomplished. Molly looked across the space to where the Master at Arms was standing. Master Abrim grinned and gave her a thumbs up. It wouldn't be long before the women would be good enough to spar with the more experienced men. She continued to walk about the pairs of battling women assigned her, giving encouragement or correcting mistakes. Abrim was grateful that she was willing to assist him in their training. They concentrated on basic defense and limited the assault techniques to attacking the face and upper body. Of special concern were the goblin's fangs as that is where the deadly venom was located. If you were a woman attacking a goblin, it was best to remove the chance of getting bitten as quickly as possible.

After each session, the women gathered about Molly, spending a few minutes each day to chat about anything from hand to hand combat to the latest perfume Mistress Lilie had concocted. It was a great bonding time and Molly encouraged the women to share their thoughts. For the first time, they began to talk of mothers, sisters or cousins that had been captured. Molly thought it was a good thing. It was long past the time for them to deal with the subject. She was proud of their progress. The women were slowly learning to take care of themselves. Molly's girls stood taller, held themselves with a new grace, and walked with a determination that showed their new confidence.

ɸ

Molly didn't see much of Sherlock. He was avoiding her. She most often saw him in conversation with the Queen or Eldrin. Somehow, she knew they were talking about her. Molly wasn't too troubled, as she felt the elders were on her side. She began to notice Sherlock nodding his head during the talks. Slowly his suspicious attitude and frowns became fewer. Whatever was being said, it calmed him. Molly still did not understand what had happened to make him so upset.

Eldrin and Sherlock worked tirelessly day and night. Finally, one day a message came from Eldrin asking Molly to come to the special room set aside for the experiments. Molly was a little uneasy as she entered the small cavern. She hoped Sherlock was in a good mood.

She was amazed by what she found. In the center of the room were several long tables covered with stone pots and glass bottles of various elixirs and liquids. To one side was a fire place with a working vented chimney for the smoke to escape. On the other side, a small waterfall trickled water into a cistern which overflowed and disappeared into a gravel-filled catch basin underneath.

The room was very organized and efficient. Molly nodded her approval of the variety of herbs hanging in a special drying section near the fireplace. She knew most of the herbs and what medicinal properties they contained. It was very well stocked.

"I see you approve of our workroom," Eldrin smiled. "Come Molly, we want to show you what we have been able to do so far. Perhaps, you will think of something that we have not tried."

Molly cast a quick glance at Sherlock. He was stirring a small cauldron hanging over the fire. He did not look at Molly as she walked over and stood beside Eldrin. It was clear to Molly that Eldrin was the only one who wanted her there.

"Sherlock is finishing an elixir of Mallow-wart, Elesieum, and Hawthorne bark," Eldrin commented. Molly nodded. It was a combination of herbs she was familiar with. Mallow-wart and Elesieum formed a non-toxic base for many of the medicines she made.

"The use of hawthorn bark is a little unusual," she said. "Is it used as a preservative, or as an astringent ?" Molly asked with interest.

"Both." Sherlock said staring at her. "Once this elixir is finished, we will add Bay Berry, Monk's Star and Hemlock"

Molly frowned. "I am not familiar with Monk's Star, and Hemlock is poisonous. How do you plan to detoxify it?"

"That's what the Monk's Star is for." Sherlock grunted. 'It binds the toxins, yet allows the healing properties of the Hemlock to seep through. All we need now is an ingredient to speed up the absorption of the medicine. Something that is fast enough to allow the serum to kill the venom before it takes hold of the body."

Sherlock carefully removed the kettle from the fire an sat it on an iron trivet placed on the worktable.

"Come and see." He said abruptly. He pointed to a small table in a corner of the room. "Look, but be careful not to touch anything." He was no longer avoiding her, but his actions plainly indicated that he was not comfortable around her.

Molly gave a small sigh and walked to the table. There was a curious apparatus made of a glass lens with brass fittings standing on the table. Under the lens was a small glass bowl of liquid. Beneath the bowl as series of mirror reflected the light of a nearby candle so that it illuminated the contents of the glass container. Sherlock adjusted the height of the lens over the bowl by turning several of the brass knobs. When he was satisfied, he stepped back and allowed Molly to peer down through the lens into the mysterious liquid.

Molly gasped. Just looking at the liquid she could not see anything in particular. But when she gazed through the special lens, the liquid came alive with small swimming objects.

"What are they?" Molly asked excitedly.

"You are looking at a sample of the venom." Sherlock answered. It appears to have small creatures inside."

Molly gazed in wonder. How could anything too small to see with your eyes be alive and living in a sample of venom?

"This is truly a marvelous machine!" she exclaimed staring at the lens apparatus. "Is it magic?" she whispered, looking at Eldrin.

"You'll have to ask Sherlock my dear. He is the one who made this very handy tool."

Molly looked up at Sherlock who appeared somewhat stoic. "I just adapted something I've seen Sooran use in his workshop. It was not that difficult to make." he replied.

Molly noted to herself that he did not answer her question about magic.

"It's effects are wondrous." Molly told him.

"Watch this!" Eldrin said with excitement. He crowded in beside Molly which caused her to bump into Sherlock. Sherlock jumped back as if Molly's touch had burned him. He glared down at the herbalist as if she had touched him on purpose. Molly stared back at him in bewilderment.

"Children, children! Pay heed!" the mage said in admonishment. He held a cooled sample of he liquid from the fire. He poured a small amount into the bowl under the lens and Molly watched as the creatures or whatever they were became still. In a matter of seconds, all of the small objects were lifeless.

Molly looked at Eldrin, broad grin spreading across her face. "You found a cure!"

"Not I," Eldrin said merrily. Sherlock was the one who discovered this with his lens machine.

Sherlock ignored Eldrin's praise and pointed at the bowl. "I'm afraid this is not the cure we seek." he said.

"But the creatures are dead." Molly protested. "All that needs to be done it to give infected women the elixir."

"Don't forget about how quickly the women change." Sherlock reminded her. "No, this is not a cure. If the result is that the mind and soul are still gone what have we accomplished? But it is a start, and a great discovery."

"What we need is a way to protect the women before they are bitten," Eldrin said quietly.

Molly stared at the small bowl. She couldn't help but think that it was the solution to their problem somehow. The orgasms were dead, but could they still be used somehow?

"In the village where I lived, several of the women became allergic to Severbane, the main ingredient in the making of soap. I was able to give them small amounts of the herb, and over time they built up a resistance to the allergy and were able to use the soap made from it like everyone else. I don't suggest giving our women small amounts of live venom, after all we don't know its strength or how little it would take to cause the change, but perhaps the dead venom could be useful."

She eyed the bowl. " I don't think drinking the liquid will work. The stomach humors will destroy it before the body could absorb it." Molly tapped the table in front of the bowl thoughtfully. "If we only had a way to put it directly into the body without going through the stomach. . ."

"Oh!" Sherlock interrupted excitedly. " Molly, you are clever! Master Sooran once told me he had been to a land where the people scraped the scabs off pox victims, reduced it to a fine powder and blew it into the nostrils of healthy people using a hollow reed. He claimed that the people who received this treatment did not get the pox during the next epidemic. We can dry the dead venom and do the same!"

Sherlock laughed, jumped up and down and clapped his hands together. Molly stared. For the first time since the party, he was treating her as a friend instead of an enemy. He was such an odd man.

In no time Sherlock and Eldrin had their heads together discussing the best way to go about creating a powder. Molly shook her head and decided to make herself useful by cleaning the used utensils. Filling an empty pot with water from the cistern, she hung it over the fire to heat. The men, lost in their discussion, ignored her movements about the small room.

ɸ

All the hustle and bustle brought change to Lilligrotto. The women walked about with a spring in their steps and there was an air of expectation and excitement that could almost be seen. Not everyone accepted that the changes were good. Many of the men were heard to grumble amongst themselves that the women were becoming too aggressive.

"They strut about the cave as if they are men!" Acrum was heard to growl. "Next thing we know, they will be wanting to go out in the forest hunting and fishing on their own! It's downright unfeminine!"

"The other night, Twiggy refused to couple with me! " grumbled the rotund pixie who had been Twiggy's partner at the Spin the turtle game. "I couldn't believe it! She had the gall to tell me I smelled bad and that she wasn't in the mood!" He shook his head in a bewildered manner as several of his friends commiserated with him.

Pylar cleared his throat and said in a most scandalized voice. "I heard that the women presented a petition to the Queen and Elder Eldrin. It was a list of demands for equal say with men in how the rules and decisions are made! Think of it. Women having a say in how rules are made! Why everything will fall to pieces in no time!" All the men shook their heads at the thought of such a ridiculous idea.

"My woman informed me that there is talk about starting a new colony of just women. She told me that they didn't need us with our crude manners and dirty feet mucking up their chambers any more!" whispered a scandalized man named Willin. "What are we going to do about all this? If we don't stop all this nonsense now, soon all Lilligrotto will be in an uproar!" The men huddled together, there was much wagging of heads and scowls deep enough freeze a troll into stone.

Things came to a head at supper several nights later. At first everything was quiet and everyone was talking in pleasant tones, then suddenly a serving girl poured a pitcher of mushroom wine over the head of a very surprised Pylar.

"If you try to pinch my bottom again, you troll, I will bash this pitcher over your head!" shouted the angry woman. Pylar stared up at her dazed. Wine dripped slowly off the end of his nose.

"But Edrith, what is the matter? I have pinched your bottom many times and always received a giggle and a wink from you. What is your problem? Have you decided you no longer fancy me?" Pylar whined in confusion.

"I want you to like ME, you dolt!. Not just my body! If I pinched your bottom in front of your friends just now, how would it make you feel?" Edrith planted her hands on her hips and glared at him in the time honored manner of a woman who is totally fed up with a man. She began muttering something about what was good for the hen was also good for the cock. Then she made a move as if to follow up on her comment.

Pylar stood up and scowled down at the advancing Edrith. In the room, several women shouted encouragement while most of the men stared like they couldn't believe what was going on.

"Edrith, you wouldn't dare!" Pylar shouted angrily as he backed away from Edrith, making sure to face her..

"Why not?" Edrith's voice had changed to a sultry tone. "After all, my dear, you are just a man. You should be pleased. You should know your place by now. You my dear, are here to provide a service to women. You don't think you are important do you? You are just a means for women to endure the boredom of a long evening! I know you won't mind a kiss and a tickle and perhaps a pinch or two." Edrith stalked closer. Molly could see her waggling her eyebrows as she backed poor Pylar against the wall behind his table.

Edrith leaned in and began kissing the alarmed Pylar. As the kiss became more intense, Pylar began to relax and enjoy the situation. His arms came around Edrith's body and his fingers curled into her hair. The men began shouting encouragement to him and making comments on how well he was kissing. Suddenly, in the middle the arduous snog, Edrith's arm shot out and up into the air. Waving her hand about in an exaggerated motion, finger and thumb clasping together, she made a pinching motion in the air with her fingers. Then her arm disappeared behind Pylar's back. Pylar gave a squeal worthy of the most innocent maiden who was unexpectedly goosed. Edrith stood back, turned to the room and bowed to the enormous enjoyment of all of the women and even some of the men. Plyar stood there, transfixed. The man didn't know what to do.

The room was in an uproar. Women were squealing and laughing. Men were growling and obviously quite outraged. Molly was stunned. Part of her wanted to laugh, but another part was horrified at how the evening was turning out. She wouldn't be surprised if it ended in an all out brawl. The tempo increased and the room nearly burst with activity. All sorts of objects were being thrown about, most of them aimed at the unfortunate men. Molly ducked as a golden plate sliced the air over her head and felled a man standing behind her. The poor fellow was out cold. Molly pursed her lips. The way the plate had soared across the room was impressive. With a sharpened edge, it would make a formidable weapon to attack the Bous-riding goblins. She made a note to speak with Master Abrim about it in the morning. Now was not the time to daydream, the room was becoming increasingly dangerous. Several pairs of pixie men and women were actually rolling about the floor in their irate distress.

From the corner of her eye, Molly caught movement as Sherlock of Holmes sat down in his empty space at the table. He hadn't eaten at the evening meal in several days. He had picked a poor time to expect sustenance now. Most of the food was flying through the air or was plastered on the bodies of the pixies. Molly looked up and caught his gaze as a pudding sailed down the table and smacked her forehead. She quickly wiped the offending goop away with a napkin as she heard a guffaw coming from Sherlock's direction.

Molly glared in his direction. Insufferable man!

"See what you have caused Molly Hooper?" Sherlock smirked. "There's no telling where all this will end. It wouldn't surprise me if your women decide to make the men beg before they are allowed to touch or kiss them again."

"Why not? It's about time the women around her stood up for themselves!" Molly exclaimed. And I did not start all this." She leaned sharply to the left to avoid a bowl of lentil stew flying past. "Why do you blame me?"

Sherlock glanced sideways at her and spoke in his most sardonic voice. "Did you see any of this behavior when we first came? Who else has voiced opinions of how oppressed the women are? Who encouraged the women to think for themselves and to take responsibility for their own well being? This is all your doing Molly Hooper, as sure as the sun comes up every morning. You cannot deny that it has had quite an effect on the people here." Sherlock sat back, folded his long arms across his chest and looked at Molly.

"I suppose you think it should all go back to how it was," Molly snarled. "The women here were little more than objects to satisfy the men's sexual urges! It was disgusting! They were so cowed, they were slaves to the men's whims and didn't even realize it! Half of them thought their only purpose in life was to make the men happy and to have babies! I suppose you think that is the way it should be!" Molly placed her hands on her hips and glared at the tall man.

Sherlock just grinned. "Oh, don't include me in all this. I happen to agree with you. Mind you, I'm not opposed to sexual satisfaction now and then, but not the variety the women here were offering." He shook his head in disgust.

He paused for a time, then chose his next words carefully. "The women here definitely needed a push in the direction for independence. All that simpering and agreement was sickening. I found it demeaning and most unflattering."

Molly looked at him, at loss for words.

"Boring milk toast lasses are not to my taste, Molly Hooper," Sherlock said with a heavy eyed look that made her more than a little uncomfortable. "I like a little vinegar in my salad." Sherlock quirked up one side of his mouth and said in a deep low voice. "Give me woman with a little sass in her any day."

Molly stared. Was he flirting with her? Impossible! Molly sniffed. "Don't you dare try pretending you are on my side! You're a man aren't you? It doesn't bother you a bit to put the women down or to build them up!"

"That's the whole point. At least I'm honest. I treat them equally well or poorly as the circumstances warrant. I am what I am Molly Hooper." he said proudly. "You know you wouldn't like me if I were anything else."

"Who says I like you?" Molly growled. "You are egotistical, irritating, and quite insufferable!"

"Yes, and you like me that way." Sherlock flung back. "Just as I like your independence, quirky nature and the fact that you are slow to anger, but go off like a volcano when properly riled. You are most entertaining and I appreciate that in a woman."

"I'm not sure if I've been complimented or insulted."

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and winked. He actually winked! "You decide. It makes no difference to me. I don't plan to change."

"That's for sure!" Molly agreed. "I can't imagine you anything but an obnoxious git."

They sat watching the brawl before them, occasionally leaning to one side or the other as various objects careened about. Sherlock actually managed to take a bite or two of food, in spite of having to dunk once or twice to avoid flying missiles. After a few minutes, Sherlock looked at Molly who was sitting with her arms folded in her lap.

"So, what do you think? Shall we call a truce? It will soon be time to leave Lilligrotto and I have no wish to travel with an antagonistic companion." .

Molly looked at him incredulously. "I am not the one who became angry, Sherlock. I don't even know what the fuss was about unless you were incensed about the quality of my kiss."

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with your kissing abilities," he assured her in a deep voice that rattled her toes. "Perhaps I over-reacted a little in regards to my anger. Pax? Do you think we could become friends again?"

It wasn't an apology, but it was close. Molly nodded. "Peace," she agreed, "but I don't think we were ever friends, colleagues perhaps or maybe comrades. As long as you permit me equal say in what we do, I'm agreeable."

Sherlock opened his mouth to comment, but was interrupted by the approach of Queen Irgraine.

"Ah! Sherlock and Molly. I see you have patched up your difficulties. Well done." The Queen smiled indulgently at them in the manner of a Mother who had two particularly bright children.

Irgraine turned to Molly. "Oh my dear what a change you have brought to Lilligrotto!" The Queen laughed and waved her arm about in the direction of the fray that was still battling on.

"I am so sorry. your Majesty. I did not mean to cause . . "

"I am not displeased child," the Queen assured her. "You have brought a breath of fresh air to our humble home. I haven't seen this much action in a long time! Look about you, even as we speak, things are beginning to settle down. I tell you, before this night is through there will be much coupling and dozens of new babes on the way!"

Indeed the ruckus was dying down and most of the pixies were going about arm in arm laughing about the silly things they had done.

"Pixies are rather temperamental," The Queen explained. "We are easy to upset and tend to flare into monumental rages, but we soon see the right of things and settle down. I think you will find that the women will have more say on what goes on from now on, but they will be quick to declare that their men have always supported them and encouraged them to become more independent. The men of course will congratulate themselves on a well planned strategy, and take all the credit for the improvements. It is the Pixie way."

Molly eyed Sherock. "I think that is true of all men, pixie or human," she murmured low enough so only the Queen could hear.

Sherlock wondered at the sound of the women laughing, then shook his head. Change was often good, but too much change too quickly could sometimes become upsetting.

FYI _The powdering of pox scabs and blowing the dead cells up the nostrils was practiced by the early Chinese about the year 1000._


	11. Chapter 11 - Chamber of the Ancestors

Chapter Eleven - In the Chamber of the Ancestors

"Lady Molly, I was hoping to find you here."

Molly looked up from the assortment of dried herbs on the table before her to see Queen Irgraine standing in the entrance of the small room. Molly smiled, she had grown quite fond of the pixie queen.

"Sherlock mentioned that we would soon be traveling again, and I was just trying to replenish my supply of herbs before we left ," Molly explained.

Irgraine nodded pleasantly. "Walk with me, please. I have an errand I must perform and I think you may find it interesting."

Curious, Molly fell in step with the older woman and the two started down a long passageway. They passed several entrances to various caverns which were occupied for differing purposes. One was obviously the kitchens. Cooks and assistants were scurrying about preparing the next meal. The armory, filled with weapons was next. Further along, a large cavern on Molly's left was filled with pixies sitting at slanted tables busily writing with tall feather quills.

"Scribes," the queen said in answer to Molly's surprised look. "We regularly trade with neighboring pixie realms." Molly nodded thoughtfully as she followed the queen down the winding passageway.

On the right, was a library. Walls were covered from floor to ceiling with bookcases filled with large leather bound volumes. Molly had never seen so many books in one place before. Her fingers itched to hold them. What wonders and information they must contain! If she did nothing but read, there were still too many books here for a lifetime.

Finally, after many twists and turns, they came out into a huge open space which contained a large underground lake. Molly gasped in surprise and delight. Overhead, thousands of small twinkling lights fluttered on the ceiling reflecting in the vastness of the water. It stretched as far as Molly could see.

"This is the chamber of the ancestors," Queen Irgraine said reverently. It is here our souls reside after we die, to await the end of time."

The queen opened a small box on a table and began to line up a row of twenty-two strangely shaped candles. Lighting them, seven of the candles burned with an orange flame, while fifteen cast a weak greenish light. The queen watched them burn for several minutes before lightly touching each candle and saying a name. She then passed her hand down the line of candle flames. As her hand touched the flames, the candles extinguished and the tiny flames rose in the air. The lights twirled about, then spiraled upward to attach themselves to the ceiling, blending into the twinkling mass.

"Why are some of the lights green?" Molly asked.

"The green lights are the souls of the women who were kidnapped. Essentially they are dead, but their bodies still breathe. Their lights will remain green until their bodies cease to function. If you watch closely, you can tell when a goblin woman dies, her light changes and glows orange.

The two women sat on some nearby benches and gazed out onto the water.

"It is very beautiful here," Molly whispered after a few minutes. She took in a deep breath. "There is something...a presence. I can almost hear... her voice paused as she strained, trying with all her might to distinguish sound that was just beyond her ability. Molly looked about, but saw nothing but the water and the tiny lights on the cavern ceiling.

"Yes," the queen murmured. "I thought you might be able to perceive them. Not everyone can. They are pleased you are here. It is another confirmation that your soul is pure. If you were pixie, you would be able to converse with them, ask advice, or just seek comfort. What you are experiencing is the essence of all who were."

"It's a little overwhelming," Molly said as tears streaked down her face. "There is so much love and regret and joy and sadness here. And yet, and yet, I feel welcome."

They sat looking out over the water. Molly strained harder, yes, she thought she could hear something...almost.

"Are they singing?" Molly asked.

"Singing?" the queen smiled, "Oh yes Molly, they are singing! This is most astounding." The queen looked into Molly's eyes and said, "listen with your heart Molly, listen"

Once again, Molly strained with all her being. Suddenly, words could be faintly heard, like sounds carrying across the water from far away. It sounded like an angel choir. She understood a word or two, but most were too faint to distinguish.

"They are singing something about a lake, not this one though ," Molly whispered. She listened again, but shook her head in defeat.

The queen grasped her hands. "T'is a marvelous thing that you could hear any words at all Molly Hooper. You are truly a remarkable young woman!"

Molly lowered her eyes from the queen in embarrassment. Irgraine squeezed Molly's hands and began to sing softly, supplying the words Molly could feel, but not quite hear:

Daughter of the waves, we welcome you,

Nimue of the Isle, you are blessed!

Seek comfort in our humble home

As respite from the test.

From far away you have come to us

Giving of your heart so free.

We give advice to aid your quest

Beware, of she who is beauty.

Through trials born from evil plot,

Stand firm and face thy fate.

Offer sacrifice unbound, lest

Protector of Britain be too late.

As Irgraine finished the song, everything became still and quiet. Not even the gently lapping of the water at the lakes edge made a sound. Molly frowned and looked at the pixie queen.

"What does it mean? Who are they singing about?" She asked.

Queen Irgraine smiled, "They are singing to you. It is a prophecy. One that you must interpret Molly."

"But I don't understand a single word of it!" Molly cried. "What can I do?"

"Wait and remember the words my dear. Perhaps when the time is right you will understand their meaning."

Molly shook her head in frustration.

Irgraine looked at Molly. "How much do you remember of your Mother ?"

Molly gazed at the queen in confusion, "My mother? Why do you ask? She died when I was but seven. I remember she was beautiful, and she loved me very much. She had soft hands that could soothe scrapes and bruises. It is from her I have the gift of healing. She was always feeling poorly. It was all my father could do to keep her well enough that she could arise from her bed in the morning."

"And of your father? What of him?"

Molly smiled. Her father was the reason she was the strong person she was today. "He loved me she said. "He was always there for Mother and I. We moved about a bit, but he always made enough working with his hands to put food on our table. He once told me he didn't like making barrels, but he was glad to do it because it mean he was there to take care of Mother when she needed him. After she died, he fell apart for a while, he was always sad after that, but soon rallied and continued to be the best father one could ask for."

"You make them sound so simple. They weren't you know ," Queen Irgraine looked at her solemnly. They were so much more."

"What are you trying to tell me?" Molly asked.

"Listen, Molly Hooper," Irgraine said.

The Queen stretched her right arm out toward the lake. A wind began to blow softly over the water. It picked up speed and soon a small waterspout began to whirl stationary over the lake in front of them. A humming sound filled the air. The queen sat up stiffly, eyes locked on the whirling water. Her gaze took on a slightly glassy look and she began to speak in a low voice, easily heard above the sounds of the wind and water. "Your mother's name was Vivane." She was betrothed to the King of Maratty. There was no love, the King had plans to control her power for himself.

Vivane loved a knight of the Maratty realm. Your father, Sir Walter."

Molly eyes were wide. "How do you know this?" she whispered.

Irgraine ignored Molly's question.

"Your father rescued your mother and after difficulties they fled the evil king. They had a child, and named her Marganah. You, Molly."

Molly stared at the queen in amazement.

"It's just a story," she said. "A story from a book my father made for me as a small child. It isn't real. It's just a story."

"Beware Molly," Irgraine intoned. "The king's son, who is now King of Maratty, is just as evil as his sire. He is casting about, searching for someone of your talents. He has dark plans to take over the Kingdom of Holmes. You must be very careful."

The queen continued to stare into the swirling water. Expressions of fear and great concern flashed across her face. After a few minutes, she closed her eyes and bowed her head. The water spout dissolved and the wind ceased. All was eerily silent in the cavern.

Queen Irgraine slumped a little before straightening up to look worriedly at Molly.

"This is all very real, Molly. You say your father made a book for you. Do you still have it?"

"It is in my basket. Wherever that is ," Molly said.

"Your basket is safe. I shall have it delivered to your room. You must read it again in the light of these revelations, perhaps it will help prepare you for what is to come."

"Prepare for what?" Molly asked urgently. "What else did you see?"

"Dark days ahead," the queen said grimly. "If evil triumphs in its plans, more than the Kingdom of Holmes will be lost. Come, you need to rest and I must find Sherlock, this concerns him as well."

The queen stood and lead Molly back up the passageway.

ɸ

Later, Molly answered a knock at her door and opened it to find a servant holding her basket and clothing. They had been conveniently sized to match Molly's pixie proportions. Molly thanked the servant and hurried back into her room. Setting the basket on the bed beside her, she dug through the contents until she located the small leather bound book. Molly held the book gently. It was her most prized possession. She had always thought it to be a story her father and mother had made up to entertain her. Now, she realized it was a history, written for a child's understanding. It was the story of her family's life. She opened the book and began to read.

The story began of course with the words, _Once Upon a Time_, it told of the education of a young noblewoman, Molly's mother, at a place called the Isle of Apples. This was a special place, where girls were trained in the magic arts. If they were lucky, they would advance to the level of Nimue, the island's name for rare and powerful sorceresses who's abilities were legendary. The island was situated in the middle of a large shallow lake. Young girls who showed potential for healing powers, divination, or the arts of magic were sent to the Isle from neighboring kingdoms to study with the priestesses who lived there. Vivane had excelled in her studies. As she grew, her strength in the powers grew until she was unmatched. She would be a very powerful Nimue.

Some of the girls would decide to remain after their education to take their place among the teachers and priestesses. Others, like Molly's mother Vivane, would return to their kingdoms to marry. From the time she was twelve, Vivane had been betrothed to the future king of Maratty. At eighteen, her education complete, she was to return to Maratty for the wedding ceremony, and to begin her life as the consort of the prince. Vivane had not been consulted in this matter. She was expected by all, including the priestesses on the Island, to fulfill her duty. The day came when a small group of knights arrived to escort her home to wed the prince. The old king was stepping down and young Ivis of Maratty decided a wedding and coronation was in order.

The story continued revealing how one of the young knights, Sir Walter, had fallen in love with the beautiful Vivane, how she had returned his affections and their daring flight to escape the angry prince. Molly read on into the night. The familiar tale comforting her. She read of traps and plots, of magic crackling in the air. Of how her brave father managed to fight off three foes at once. How her mother, facing the prince who was a powerful wizard in his own right, managed with the help of her father to escape even as the wizard drained the magic from her body. Though Molly read carefully, she found nothing to help her understand her present situation until she came to the last page of the book. Or what used to be the last page. Molly stared in amazement. Yes, here was the ending,_ "The family lived happily ever after_." But now the book continued. What had always been blank pages at the end of the book were now filled with a new chapter. Molly sat up straight. It told of how the young daughter of Vivane and Walter had grown up, matured and decided to go on an adventure. Yes, Molly thought rather sarcastically, being drowned in love potion will certainly do that to a girl!

According to the book, the girl was fated to meet and fall in love with two men. Both of them dark and handsome. Well, Molly thought, that certainly hasn't happened yet. A small voice in her head mocked gently Perhaps not two, but certainly one dark and handsome man was nearby. Molly irritably pushed the thought aside and read on. Of the two men, one would profess his love, while the other would remain silent. One of the men would be her true love, the other would betray her love and seek to destroy her.

Molly hurriedly turned the page for an answer to who these mysterious men might page was blank. She ruffled the rest of the pages at the end of the book only to find them blank as well. She turned back to the beginning of the new chapter and read it again. She studied each word, trying to decipher clues from what was written. She found no answer, nothing, Once again she turned to where the story stopped expecting to find the next page blank. This time a single sentence faintly appeared:_ The fate of the kingdom, nay, the fate of all kingdoms, rests within the hands of the Nimue, Marganah. _

There was that word again. Nimue. It had been in the prophecy. For the first time in a long time Molly was afraid.

ɸ

Sherlock, dressed in the clothing he had arrived in, stood in front of the small shaving mirror and scowled at his reflection. There were dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept since Queen Irgraine had spoken with him and Elder Eldrin two days ago. According to her visions, a great calamity was about to fall on the Kingdom of Holmes. Sherlock knew he was needed at home. Sooran would need his help. Even Mycroft, his brother, might require his services. Though he didn't normally get along with the King about most things, this was a very serious matter and petty squabbles must be put aside. It was past time to leave Lilligrotto.

His first thought was to leave Molly Hooper behind. The woman was trouble, that was for sure. He was almost sure she was a Nimue. He shuddered. He did not need her sort about threatening his powers. He was familiar with the stories passed down his line; how Nimues would appear all goodness and light, how they could worm their way close to your heart, then when least expected, they would suck the very life from your body as well as your source of power, leaving you a dry husk of a man.

No, he did not need Molly Hooper. Already he could feel her influence over him. Her appearance of innocence felt so real. He wanted desperately to believe she had no ulterior motives. He admired her strength and boldness. Her beauty was astounding. Her smell intoxicated his senses until he could think of nothing else. He was sorely tempted.

But he knew she was more than she pretended. He had felt her _draw_ the night of the party. The actual ties between them had been forming! If he hadn't jumped back, if the goblins hadn't chosen that moment to attack, it might be too late right now! The last thing he needed was to be caught in a blending bond with a Nimue! Long ago, one of his ancestors, a powerful sorcerer named Emrys had been tricked by a Nimue. The woman had drained his powers, buried him alive in a cave and proceeded to take over his job as court advisor to the King! So much for trusting a woman of power.

Not all blending bonds were evil. If the woman was pure in heart, the bond would strengthen both parties Their blending would permit them to share the increased power, double of what each could wield alone. But such bonds were rare. Usually, the sorcerer in the bond was forced to give his power to the Nimue. The problem was that you could not tell ahead of time if the Nimue was tricking you, seducing you to obtain increased power for herself.

The dark part of him whispered that he should attack first and grasp the power away from her for his own use. After all, that was what she was planning to do to him wasn't it? He shuddered and forced the thought out of his mind. Forcefully taking power from another was little different than rape. He would have no part in it.

Sherlock pulled on his coat, tied the scarf about his long neck and picked up his sorcerer's bag. He might not want her along, but he acknowledged that her skills with herbs and healing would be necessary if Holmes was about to go to war. Pushing his personal preferences aside, he headed up the passage toward the main cave. As long as she kept her distance, he could handle the situation.

Arriving in the main cavern, he joined the Queen, Eldrin and the small group who were to travel with him. Pylar, Aacrum and Twiggy were outfitted and ready to go. The pixies had agreed to provide escort to the boundaries of their territory to ensure safe passage. Sherlock turned and watched as Molly Hooper joined the party. He pushed aside the thought that she looked oddly endearing in her travel clothes once more. Her blanket draped about her shoulders was dragging on the stone floor. He ignored the small twinge of his body reacting to her presence. He was a practical man. She was needed, so she was coming along. End of the matter.

Queen Irgraine led the group up the passageways to the grassy meadow outside the entrance to Lilligroto, where she and Elder Eldrin made their good byes. Pausing beside each, they spoke softly, encouraging them and reminding them of the importance of their journey. Sherlock waited impatiently as he watched the Queen give Molly and fond hug. Pixie farewells were a long and rather convoluted process. He feared they would never finish. Finally it was his turn.

"Don't look so solemn." the Queen said as she patted his arm. "All is not lost yet. You have a good friend in young Molly you know."

Sherlock frowned, "She's not whom she seems. She's hiding something." he said with a grim tone.

Irgraine laughed. "I'm sure it is nothing. She is a woman. We all hide things. If we shared everything we know, it would curl the hair on your head!" She chuckled softly gazing fondly at his wavy locks. "Though in your case, I'm not sure you would notice!"

"You seem so sure she is harmless, but it is I who would pay the price if she is not." he said in a bitter tone. "It is much better to keep her at arms length and be safe."

"It is your decision," Irgraine agreed. "But are you sure safe is so important? Have care Sherlock of Holmes that you do not harm yourself in your efforts to keep yourself from harm."

The queen stepped back and Eldrin came over bringing Molly with him.

"It is time to return you two to your normal size," the mage announced. He carefully positioned Sherlock and Molly so they were standing side by side. He reached into his black bag which hung from one shoulder and blew a sparkling green dust in front of their faces while he waved a small wand. With two small popping sounds Sherlock and Molly suddenly found themselves towering over the pixie wizard.

Eldrin looked up with a quizzical look on his face. "I have often wondered why anyone would wish to stumble about at such an awkward size. It must be horrible."

Molly smiled down at the diminutive man. "It is as it is supposed to be Elder," she said. "For us, anything else would seem strange, though I have enjoyed our stay with you."

The old wizard shuffled his feet a little in embarrassment. Compliments made pixies rather uncomfortable.

"There doesn't seem to be much fuss with our clothing this time," Sherlock drawled. "If you were able to change the size of our clothing, I fail to see the point of the dramatic way we were transformed when we arrived." He stared down suspiciously

"Of course I could have shrunk your clothing!" Eldrin laughed. "Though you will have to admit, the way I did it was much more interesting!"

Molly blushed. Sherlock laughed. "Very true old friend, very true," he said.

Finally they were ready to leave. Pylar, Aacrum and Twiggy sat astride the beautiful red hind once more. Molly was sure it was the same animal that she had healed. There was a trusting light in the animal's eyes as it nudged her in greeting. Picking up their staffs and bundles Sherlock and Molly headed off into the Deep with a final round of farewells echoing through the forest behind them.


	12. Traveling The Deep

**Traveling in the Deep**

For eight days the small party of five filed slowly through the forest. The pixies, mounted on the back of the hind, had no difficulty keeping up with their now much larger companions. The small folk chattered nonstop as they traveled. Twiggy often pointed out plants that were new to Molly, explaining their preparation and uses. Pylar and Aacrum talked mostly to Sherlock. Their discussions centered about hunting, battling trolls, and the dangers of the deep. Sherlock spent very little time talking with Molly. Part of her was grateful, as their association had become quite awkward, but a little bit of her was miffed. Who did he think he was to ignore her so? Molly's feelings were quite jumbled about the subject and she was glad the pixies were there to ease the tension. Nights were spent around a roaring campfire and as the weather was merely cool, Sherlock's tent was not required. Everyone rolled up in their cloaks and slept soundly under the watchful eyes of whoever was acting sentry.

Molly discovered her favorite time was early morning. In quiet of the pre-dawn, as the birds were just beginning to sleepily twitter, she could listen to the small soft sounds of nocturnal animals rustling the undergrowth as they returned to their burrows for the day. It was a perfect time for contemplation. One such morning found her wishing that she could stay and live among the pixies. The Deep was an ethereal and charming place; she was happier here than she could ever remember being. She loved Twiggy as a sister, and even Pylar and Aacrums grumblings were endearing. It would be a good life she told herself. There was much she could do to help in the struggle against the goblins, and the pixies could always use a good healer.

Molly's thoughts drifted to their campsite of the day before. They had sheltered under a huge oak tree. It was the largest tree Molly had ever seen. Its branches seemed to extent up and outward forever. The trunk was gigantic. It was large enough to make a roomy house. In her imagination, she thought of how it would look hollowed out with a sturdy door in one side. Small windows, each a level higher than the one before, would indicate a multi-level floor plan. The red boxes attached to the bottom of the windows would contain medicinal herbs and flowers ready for picking. Higher up, she could imagine a door opening out onto a platform built on those sturdy branches. The platform would be perfect for sleeping on hot summer nights. It would sway with the wind and gently rock her to sleep as she lay in the arms of….

Molly shifted her daydream away from such dangerous thoughts. Instead, she forced herself to think of working in the small garden that would be located behind the tree home. Tall hedges of roses would surround the small patch of earth tilled to provide sustenance for the coming winter. She could see herself gathering vegetables for their next meal, Sherlock walking through the gate with his latest catch of rabbit and squirrel….

"Molly," her daydream was abruptly interrupted, "Molly, wake up! It's time to move on," Sherlock said gruffly.

"Oh, yes, um just a mo…I need to gather my things." Molly mumbled. Molly stumbled about packing her things quickly while the others waited patiently. Why couldn't Sherlock be nicer to her? As they headed down the path, Molly took one last glance over her shoulder in the direction in which they had come.

No matter how much she justified her arguments with herself for remaining, or dreamed dreams of contented country life, Molly knew it was not possible. Queen Irgraine's words of prophecy echoed in her thoughts. Destiny was pointing her down a different path and had no compassion for the wants and wishes of a silly girl. Molly sighed and looked across the pixies riding the hind once again to the figure of Sherlock of Holmes on the other side. His face was stoic as he marched along.

Sherlock of Holmes was a complete mystery to Molly Hooper. That he attracted her, she could not deny, but she just did not know what to make of the man. He was a portrait of contradictions. He was a wizard for one thing. Molly still struggled with the concept of the existence of 'good' wizards. How could she ever be associated with a man who wielded magic? Molly shivered, it was unnatural. But what about her life was normal since the appearance of Sherlock of Holmes? Molly thought of the words written in the small book in her basket. She was fated to fall in love with two dark and handsome men. One would betray that love and seek to destroy her. The book had not assured her that either of the men would love her back.

"Which are you, Sherlock of Holmes?" Molly whispered a little desperately. The last words of the book haunted her. "The fate of the kingdom, nay, the fate of all kingdoms, rests within the hands of the Nimue, Marganah."

Molly was Marganah and she was sorely afraid. The weight of her destiny hung about her neck like a noose.

Molly was grateful for the small folks company. Their incessant chatter filled the awkwardness between Sherlock and herself. Although she could tell he was no longer angry with her, Molly sensed reluctance and standoffishness about Sherlock's attitude. He didn't talk to her, and often went out of his way to ignore her as much as possible. It made her feel sad, but at the same time angry. She had done nothing to the man! What was his problem? Before all the fuss and bother, she had felt there had been a good chance that they might become at least friends. Now, with all the talk of powers and Nimue and Sherlock's accusing glares, she felt like she no longer was herself, but had mysteriously transformed into something wicked and evil. Molly was the first to acknowledge that she was no expert when it came to dealing with men, but surely it shouldn't be this difficult to get along.

The days wore on and as time passed pleasantly and uneventfully, Molly began to relax. Sherlock's attitude was his problem, it had nothing to do with her and she refused to continue feeling guilty. She began to enjoy her surroundings. There was so much to see and learn about. Twiggy was a marvelous teacher and Molly enjoyed her naughty sense of humor when it came to the menfolk.

"Why do men like smart women?" Twiggy sang out loudly one afternoon as they traveled along.

"I don't know. Why?" Molly asked.

"It's because opposites attract!" Twiggy tittered as Pylar and Aacrum angrily huffed.

"Why do female black widow spiders kill the males after mating?" Twiggy asked next.

Molly looked over with raised eyebrows.

"To stop the snoring before it starts!" Twiggy giggled.

Things really got stirred up with her next question:

"How can you tell when a man is well hung?" Twiggy asked as she stared off into the forest. Behind her Aacrum made a distinct choking sound as Pylar growled.

Molly stared at her friend, she was not about to touch that with a ten foot pole!

"When you can just barely slip your finger in between his neck and the noose." Twiggy said brightly.

Molly couldn't help herself and began to giggle. She glanced over at Sherlock and saw his lip curl slightly upward before it quickly straightened out.

"This is outrageous woman!" Pylar roared, "you will stop this nonsense immediately!"

"Or what?" Twiggy demanded. "You have no say over what I wish to talk about! You are not my mate or will ever come close to being my mate, so shut your cakehole. If I want to talk to Molly, and make a few truthful observations, I will." Twiggy crossed her arms and glared back at the men.

Molly was sure they were going to come to blows, when Sherlock suddenly intervened.

"Did you hear about the man who finally figured out women?" Sherlock asked quietly.

Everyone looked at him expectantly.

"He died laughing before he could tell anybody," Sherlock answered.

There was a long pause, and then everyone including Twiggy began to laugh. The tension that had been building up dissipated into thin air.

Suddenly Sherlock held up his hand. "Someone is coming down the path," He said tersely.

Everyone stilled in an instant. Sure enough, the sound of the steady clopping of hooves could be heard in the distance. Floating over the thin air, were faint sounds of a high quavering voice singing. The voice wafted lazily through the forest.

"Are you goin' to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

Remember me to the one who lives there,

She once was a true love of mine.

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

Without no seams nor needlework,

Then she'll be a true love of mine."

Soon a figure on a small donkey came around the curve in the path. Seated on the donkey was one of the strangest sights Molly had ever seen. The small woman was very old. She was dressed as if appearing in court. Her lavender robes were decked with lace and finery. On her head was a huge hat sporting a bright pink feather which dipped and swayed in the breeze. The woman peered at them brightly and called out in a cheery voice.

"There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?"

"Pardon me?" Sherlock said. "Who are you?"

Beside them, Molly could hear Pylar growl to Aacrum, "Bloody old bat! Why can't she stay where she belongs?"

"Who is she?" Molly whispered, but before either man could say a word, Molly was answered by the lady herself.

"Why I am Martha Hudson of course!" the old lady answered as she stared intently at Sherlock. "I've been waiting for you for weeks. What kept you?"

Sherlock stared at the old woman in confusion. "Madam, I have never seen you in my life. How can you have been waiting for me?"

Martha Hudson peered past Sherlock's shoulder and looked at the pixies seated on the hind. She glared back at Sherlock.

"You've been lolling about with them!" She frowned as she pointed at the three small folk. It's a wonder you managed to escape, they are such a tricksome lot!"

"You, old woman," Twiggy shouted angrily, "are a bothersome old biddy! They were our invited guests and able to leave whenever they wished."

"After a day and a night!" Martha Hudson grumbled. "and by that time they were thoroughly bewitched I expect!" She looked grumpily at Sherlock. "Well, are you going to help me off my ass young man? I'm not as young as I used to be and my hip is creating havoc just now."

Molly snickered at the look of outrage on Sherlock's face as he helped the old woman from her donkey. "Help her get down off her ass indeed!" Molly snickered again.

"And just what is so funny?" Martha Hudson asked Molly.

"N-nothing," Molly assured her and curtsied in greeting.

"Just as well you remembered your manners young lady," The old woman grumbled. "In my day, girls were brought up to properly acknowledge their betters."

Molly thought to herself that that day must have been a very long time ago. She looked up from her curtsy in time to see a small smile on the old woman's face. It was as if she could read her mind!

"You may address me as Mrs. Hudson." The old woman announced. "Lady Hudson is much too formal for such quaint surroundings and I detest being called Mad Martha." She glared in the direction of the pixies who crossed their arms, looked angry, but did not respond.

"What do you want with me, Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock asked in a stiff formal voice.

Mrs. Hudson ignored him and much to his annoyance, she patted him on the arm and said, "I may have misspoke."

She looked directly into Molly's eyes and murmured. "It's you, I've dreamed about you all my life, and here you finally are!"

"W-what?" Molly stammered. This woman had to be at least seventy if she were a day. How could she have dreamed about her all her life?

"I am a seer." Mrs. Hudson announced calmly. "I see the future, I know things."

"She's a bloody fortune teller!" Pylar shouted. "That old bat couldn't see her way out of a tea cup!"

"Pylar," Sherlock shouted angrily. "I don't care if she can't find her way across the room. Have some respect for an elder."

"Sorry," Pylar had the grace to mutter.

Sherlock nodded and turned to face Mrs. Hudson. "What sort of seer are you?"

"Martha Hudson drew herself up proudly. "I am a third order Oracle of Dryw"

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully. "Why are you here?"

"To help, of course." She ignored Aacrum's and Pylar's angry snorts.

"Don't listen to her Sherlock. She's just the batty old lady who lives in a hut in the forest with about a million cats! Cats!" Twiggy said in disgust.

"I like cats," Molly said.

Mrs. Hudson beamed in approval.

"How could you like cats? Cats are evil!" Twiggy exclaimed.

Martha Hudson looked at Molly and then at Sherlock. She stared off into the treetops for a few minutes longer than Molly was comfortable with. Suddenly the old woman turned and shouted at Sherlock.

"You haven't blended with her have you?"

"What? No, of course not!" Sherlock roared back.

"Well, at least that's something in your favor!" Mrs. Hudson sniffed as she turned to Molly. "I see I have my work cut out for me." She dusted her hands and hobbled over to the donkey to retrieve a dark glass bottle which she unstopped and proceeded to take a swig of it contents. "It's for my hip, you know." She said in way of explanation. "I don't trust you entirely young man," she said as she looked sternly at Sherlock." You may be the one, or you may not. The truth is not yet clear." She ignored Pylar's sarcastic remark about how nipping at her bottle might help her to tell the future better. "I sense darkness in you." She continued. She turned and looked at Molly. "Be wary around this one," she said pointing to Sherlock.

"Pardon me," Molly said politely, "but how are you going to help us?"

"I will help him if he proves worthy," Mrs. Hudson sniffed. She looked at Molly and sighed. "And you, for you I hope to prevent a fate worse than death!"


	13. Chapter 13 - Luck

**Chapter Thirteen – Luck**

**Molly didn't quite know what to make of Martha Hudson. Just as she thought she had the woman figured out, she would say something totally outrageous, and Molly would have to sort out her feelings about her all over. She didn't believe for a moment the woman was a Seer. Martha Hudson was a nosey old busy body and nothing more. Sometimes, the older woman would get all mysterious and spout off incredibly strange things. For instance, one day Martha fixed her bright eyes on Molly and said:**

"**It just won't do, you know. There is no need to get upset about it. You will just have to swallow your pride and accept that you will always be second in Sherlock's life." **

**Molly stared in confusion. What was she going on about now? **

"**The way Sherlock flirts with danger, he needs someone to watch his back." Mrs. Hudson said calmly. "Someone trained to protect and defend. He can do that, and he will be a good friend to both of you." **

"**Whom are you talking about?" Molly demanded in a bewildered voice. She was thankful Sherlock and the pixies had decided to go on ahead for a bit in order to allow Molly and the strange old woman some privacy to answer the call of nature. Thank goodness he was not around to hear this nonsense.**

"**I'm just saying, most women would get jealous if their man became so close to another. You must learn to accept what you cannot change. That will be best for everyone concerned." Mrs. Hudson said as she walked back to where her donkey was waiting.**

"**Look," Molly said tersely, forcing herself to not put her hands on her hips as she stared at the seer, "I don't know what you are talking about, but Sherlock is not now, nor ever will be my man!" She glared at the elderly woman as she helped her back onto the patient donkey. "And as for another man, especially one who is nonexistent, I don't think that is any of your concern." Molly paused, and then walked off in a huff. "Sherlock can do as he wishes, I don't own him," she said over her shoulder.**

**Mrs. Hudson just shook her head and tutted to herself that girls in her day would know how to show more respect to their elders. **

**That wasn't the end of the old woman's strange observations. Another time Martha stared at Molly in horror and shouted;**

"**No you stupid girl. You have the wrong one! It will be the ruin of everything!" Molly stopped making tea. Her hand hovered over the pot of boiling water. She frowned, there was only one pot, and the tea was the same she always used.**

"**What are you talking about now old woman?"****Pylar demanded angrily. They were camped for the night and the pixies were busy helping to prepare the evening meal.**

**Mrs. Hudson jerked out of her trance, but did not answer. She just curled up in her blanket, refused food, and kept muttering as tears streaked down the skin of her papery face. Molly felt terrible. She felt like she needed to apologize, but she wasn't sure of what to apologize for. **

**The final straw came one afternoon. Molly had stopped to gather a few sprigs of feverfew when Mrs. Hudson went into a light trance and shouted loudly for all to hear, "Molly, you need to catch his attention! You need to dress better! You look about as appealing as a cabbage in that dress."**

"**What?" Molly shrieked. "And where in this light forsaken forest do you think I will find new clothing?"**

**Pylar snorted and said, "Perhaps she thinks you should clad yourself in moonbeams and starshine Molly." The pixies began to giggle merrily and even Sherlock grinned.**

"**You have to admit, Molly, your dress sense is severely lacking finesse," Sherlock smiled.**

"**I'll have you know my clothing is modest and as clean as I can manage while traveling. Your clothes aren't much more appealing," she added with a small huff.**

"**Perhaps you should both try moonbeams and starshine," Twiggy giggled. " That way, you both could be beautiful." Sherlock's face turned beet red. Molly huffed and stomped on ahead of the group unwilling to make a comment. **

**ɸ**

**As the days passed, Sherlock noticed that Molly began to walk up front with him more often. He knew she was avoiding Mrs. Hudson, but was secretly pleased nevertheless. It gave him more time to observe and converse with the herbalist. He was surprised to find her quite educated and well informed for a village woman. She would fit in at court without any problems and could probably outshine most women there. It was unusual for women to know how to read and write. Molly could not only do both in English, but French and Latin as well. He discovered they had much to talk about. He especially enjoyed teaching her about magic. Once she changed her mind about the idea that all magic was evil, she was like a sponge. They talked for hours as they travelled, and often late into the night as they sat about the glowing embers of the campfire.**

"**And you actually turned yourself invisible?" Molly asked with a note of incredulousness and awe in her voice. **

**Sherlock smiled fondly at her. Molly could be quite complimentary when she chose. "It was magic, an illusion, albeit a good one," he admitted rather more modestly than usual. She seemed to bring that out in him. The sudden thought came to him that he quite enjoyed Molly Hooper. It surprised him that the thought did not seem to bother him as much as it once would have. He supposed it was being around her all the time. Perhaps they could be even called friends. And if he occasionally thought about what she might look like clothed in star shine and moonbeams…well, he cleared his throat and pushed the thought into his mind fort/crystal cave. He would think about that some other time.**

**ɸ**

**One day, the small party of adventurers came to the edge of a deep ravine. There was a narrow rocky path that spiraled downward, twisting and turning until it disappeared around the corner of some brush and rocks.**

"**We are going down that?" Molly asked in a horrified voice. "Surely there is a safer passage?"**

**Pylar shook his head. "To get to the other side, you must go down into Wendemire Ghyll, then follow the beck until the land widens out into the Valley of Shadow. This is as far as we go, my friends. Pixie territory ends at the top of this ravine."**

"**Take care on the path downward. The rocks crumble easily and slides are not uncommon," Aacrum said.**

**The small group gathered at the edge of the ravine and peered over the steep side. Aacrum was right. Loose boulders lay everywhere. The exposed shingle was weathered and footing promised to be slippery and treacherous. **

"**Oh, I have a bad feeling about this," Martha Hudson wailed. "We must be exceedingly cautious from this point onward."**

**Twiggy shook her head in disgust. "The old bat probably thinks she sees an omen! As if anyone with common sense couldn't figure out the path ahead is dangerous! Molly, you would be better to use your brains and not depend on the caterwauling of cantankerous old crones!"**

**Martha Hudson drew herself up firmly in the saddle and stared at the diminutive elf. "I come from a long line of oracles, young woman," she told Twiggy with a grim set of her mouth. "My mother was an oracle, as was my grandmother, and great-grandmother before her. For time immemorial the women of my line have foretold the future. When I say there is danger and treachery ahead, my words will prove the truth!"**

**Twiggy snorted, but kept her complaints to a low muttering under her breath.**

**Molly looked sideways to Sherlock. He did not appear afraid. His shoulders were straight and his face was a stoic mask that revealed little of what he thought of their situation. He was listening attentively to what the two pixie men were saying. Molly could see from their distressed faces that their warnings were indeed dire. Sherlock nodded but his face never changed.**

"**Molly," Twiggy's soft voice trilled, "please follow me." Twiggy headed into the surrounding forest a few steps, just far enough to conceal them both from Martha Hudson's eagle eyes. "I have a parting gift I wish to give you," Twiggy said a little hesitantly. She pulled a small ring from her little finger and handed it to Molly. It lay in Molly's hand, a tiny circle of gold and sparkle. "Please put it on the little finger of you right hand," Twiggy said shyly.**

"**It's too small," Molly whispered. "Twiggy, this is very lovely, but you needn't give this to me."**

**Twiggly smiled. "Try it," she encouraged.**

**Molly felt a little silly; the ring was so small there was no way it would even begin to fit her huge finger. Her eyes widened in surprise as the tiny circle of gold slid easily onto her hand. She looked at Twiggy in wonder. "It's magic!" she said.**

"**Yes," Twiggy confirmed. It is an Auratruth Ring. Look at the stone in the setting. Molly looked down at the clear crystal stone sparkling in the ring. Twiggy placed her hand on Molly's, and the stone changed color from clear to a deep lovely shade of blue. She gasped slightly and Twiggy laughed.**

"**When the stone turns blue, it indicates true friendship."**

"**Oh Twiggy, this is wondrous!" Molly breathed.**

"**Do not ever take it off. Once the ring is removed, it will not work for you again and must be passed on to another." **

"**This is not necessary, Twiggy! I have nothing to give you in return." Molly paused then smiled, "Yes, I do!" she pulled the small filigree locket from about her neck. Molly carefully opened the locket and worked the delicate hinge back and forth until it snapped. She handed the half without a chain to Twiggy.**

"**I'm sure one of your craftsmen can make a loop and add a chain." Now we are best friends forever as I have one half and you have the other."**

**Even though it was tiny in Molly's fingers, the heart was quite large in Twiggy's hands. Tears of joy streaked down the tiny woman's face as she looked up at Molly. **

"**Master Eldrin will be able to size it down for me." She said. "I will miss you Molly Hooper and I will think of you daily as I wear this lovely symbol of our friendship."**

**Molly placed her hand on Twiggy's and the stone in her ring glowed vividly blue. The girls laughed and smiled.**

"**The stone will display other colors as well." Twiggy said. "It shines purple for loyalty. Green shows envy or jealousy. Brown is for lies. It glows brighter the stronger the emotion. Pay attention especially for signs of love or hate. Take care when those colors appear."**

"**And what colors are indicative of those emotions?" Molly asked.**

**Twiggy answered, but at the same time Mrs. Hudson's donkey let out a loud bray and Molly wasn't sure what Twiggy said. It was something about crimson red and burnished gold. One meant love, the other hate. But which was which? Molly opened her mouth to ask, but the donkey brayed even louder and there was a bustling sound from the rest of the party. Aacrum and Pylar appeared and grabbed Twiggy and shouted that they needed to be on the road if they intended to get to a safe campsite for the night. Twiggy, not understanding Molly's frantic motions, waved goodbye and the three pixies mounted once more on the back of the beautiful hind, quickly faded into the depths of the forest. Mrs. Hudson's donkey was still making a ruckus. Molly sighed. She supposed it really didn't matter. She didn't have much luck with love, so she would be safe assuming which ever color showed up on her finger, was someone who didn't like her very much.**

**ɸ**

**They started down the steep descent into the ravine. Small pebbles and stones clattered off the narrow path with each step. Sherlock lead the way moving slowly and was followed by Mrs. Hudson riding her little donkey. Molly, who was last in line, was not sure she would have trusted the animal on such a dangerous path. Mrs. Hudson seemed calm about the whole thing.**

"**Bartholomew and I have been through trials more difficult than this," she told Molly as she patted the animal. "Old Bart and I will do just fine. Be careful, you wouldn't want to take a nasty spill here." **

**Molly watched a moment as the sure footed animal swayed a little as Martha Hudson adjusted the feather on her hat and patted her hair.**

"**Well come along dear, we don't have all day you know," Mrs. Hudson chided. "Mind your step."**

**Molly nodded in agreement and kept her eyes focused on the path in front of her small feet. She swallowed hard as a boulder from somewhere overhead crashed down and rolled across the path behind her. Treacherous did not begin to describe their present situation.**

**Walking in lead position, Sherlock frowned as he studied the path leading downward. Something was off. The pebbles were too perfect. If was almost as if they had been arranged on the path by someone. He carefully scanned the overhanging ledges above him. It was a perfect place for a trap.**

**ɸ**

**The cavern beneath the castle was dark and dank with the rich smells of dirt, mold, and decay. Hanging from the walls were chains and sinister looking items made of iron. It was a proper dungeon, complete with racks for torture and erotic pleasure. The woman standing in the middle of the space ignored all the accoutrements of pain. Before her was a small pool of water. Lady Irene watched as the water rippled and flowed silently in circles. She had been waiting for this for some time. The omens had warned her of the great power and resources of the wizard who would be traveling into her realm. She held out her arms over the pool and blanked her mind until she thought of nothing. Long minutes passed, then unbidden, three shapes formed on the surface of the pool. They appeared as they were in real life, climbing down the Windemere trail. The leader was a tall man. Irene smiled; he was young and rather good looking in hawkish kind of way. She was pleased that the expression on his face indicated intelligence. She so liked her pets to be brainy, it was more fun. He looked about suspiciously. Good, he was aware that the path had been tampered with. She enjoyed a challenge. **

**Irene became aware that she was no longer alone. Smooth fingers slid around her neck and a velvety dark voice whispered in her ear.**

"**Is this Him?" The fingers continued to slide back and forth around the heavy leather collar on her neck.**

"**Yes, his name is Sherlock of Holmes. I recognize his description," Irene answered.**

"**And is he as powerful as reported? Can you tell?" The smooth voice asked as he tightened his fingers about the collar and drew her back onto his shoulder.**

"**Yes," Irene croaked slightly as she desperately tried to pull air into her lungs.**

"**Good. You have done well, my little pet. Soon my dear, his power shall belong to us. With so much power, we will rule the world!" **

**There was a slight hint of madness in the voice. The fingers gave one more tug and then the tightness about her neck was gone. Irene breathed a sigh of relief. She continued to draw air deeply, but quietly. it was not a good idea to let him see how much he disturbed her. He controlled her now, but soon, she would have enough power to break free. Power, within power, within power. A pretty little game and a chance to rule them all! She gave a silent sigh of relief when her Master left the room.**

**Her attention returned to the pool of water and the forms of the three people and a donkey moving steadily downward. It was time to shake up Sherlock of Holmes' world a bit. His companions were unnecessary complications. The old lady was utterly worthless. The girl was pretty. A shame really, she liked pretty girls. Irene made a spur of the moment decision and smiled to herself. Perhaps the girl would survive, perhaps not, she would allow the fates to choose. It was time. The travelers were in the right position.**

**Lady Irene wiggled a crimson tipped finger and watched raptly as her command began a chain reaction. She leaned forward as the man abruptly turned and shouted something to his companions.**

**ɸ**

**Sherlock saw the trap as he turned, but his warning came seconds too late. One of the donkey's hooves brushed the small stack of stones, causing them to topple slowly over the edge and clatter down the steep sides of the ravine. Then in an almost ridiculous manner, the larger boulders that had been carefully placed just so, began to wobble. The donkey, carrying a startled Mrs. Hudson, managed to scramble to safety, but there was no such luck for Molly Hooper. Sherlock watched in horror as boulders crashed down from above. When the racket of the tumbling stones faded away there was nothing left of where Molly had been. Even the path was gone.**

**ɸ**

**Irene gave a satisfied sigh. Now, it was time to give some attention to her house guest. She walked slowly in a sultry manner across the wide open space to a doorway to a smaller chamber. She casually picked up a riding crop and smiled at the man chained to the wall. Holding the leather tip under his chin, she began to croon. **

"**Now, John dear. Are you ready to tell me how to find the secret entrance into Holmes Castle?"**

**Sir John looked her straight in the eye and turned his head and spat blood and a loose tooth onto the floor.**

"**I take that as a no," Irene said.**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**GHYLL: A ravine or valley inclosing a small water-course.**

**BECK: A small stream.**


End file.
